Game Plan
by supremecommandervader
Summary: This is a Modern AU in the first person, present tense pov of Anakin Skywalker. He's a starting pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, twenty-four years old and is in the prime of his life when he lays his eyes on the most beautiful woman he's ever seen... this is an Anidala story.
1. Chapter 1

**Synopsis: This is a Modern AU in the first person, present tense pov of Anakin Skywalker. He's a starting pitcher for the Boston Red Sox, twenty-four years old and is in the prime of his life, and a player both on and off the field, when he lays his eyes on the most beautiful woman he's ever seen... this is an Anidala story.**

 **This is rated T for now but will become M rated either next chapter or within the next few.**

 **Game Plan: Chapter 1**

* * *

It's a full count with three balls and two strikes. The bases are loaded in the top of the ninth inning, and _all_ I need to do is throw _one_ more strike to end this game. That's it. We're up by one run, four to three, and if they get a base hit, then the game is tied, and I'll be pulled from the game. The same thing will happen if I throw a ball. Of course, a small part of my brain also reminds me that the batter can hit a home run, and it'll be a grand slam with them up by three and, more than likely, a third loss on my record for the season thus far. Ain't no way I'm letting _that_ happen.

However, I smother that reminder and push it out of my mind.

I can do this. I _have_ done this, and I _will_ do it again. No problem.

This isn't my first game, after all. This also isn't my first complete game. I'm a veteran, a seasoned pro. Like I just said…I can do this. I just need to concentrate, focus, and forget about everyone and everything else. Right now, it's only the batter, the catcher, the ump, and myself. _Nobody_ else exists or matters in _this_ moment. I can't hear the fans screaming madly all around the stadium or the yells of encouragement from my teammates around the field.

Nope. I tune it all out.

Shaking my head at the catcher's pitch suggestions, I finally nod when he signals for the four-seam fastball. Ryan Lawson, the catcher, doesn't seem to think I have it in me to throw another one after I already threw over a hundred pitches this game, but I _know_ I can do this. I can feel it. This isn't me being cocky or arrogant with my abilities; it's just a statement of fact, and even though this is just a regular season game and not a major one at that, I still wouldn't allow my arrogance or stubbornness to overrule good sense just for me to stay in the game. Not if I didn't think I could do this, nor would I risk a loss on my record and the team's record because of it.

I know I can do this, which is the reason why I asked Ben, our manager, to let me finish what I started when he visited the mound. He believes in me. He knows what I can and can't do, and he knows I've got it in me to finish this game off for us. I know this, and for that reason, I wouldn't do anything to make him question his belief or his trust in me. Or the team's owner either.

I _am_ one of the _Red Sox's_ star pitchers, after all.

Shaking off my thoughts again, I refocus on the batter and turn to face the runner on third, as I stand back up straight and tall before turning my attention back to Ryan. I exhale a big breath, wind up my pitch, bringing my right hand back, my left leg up, and then step forward throwing the ball with every ounce of strength I have left in me, knowing that I'll need to throw the ball fast enough to fly right by him. The ball flies towards Ryan, going slightly to the upper right corner of the invisible strike zone towards the batter's elbow but still far enough away to not hit him- it's his weak spot, which is _exactly_ why I aimed for it. The batter sees this the second the ball leaves my hand, and he prepares himself as his wide eyes narrow down on the ball, and he starts to swing, but the ball zooms right by him going faster than he thought it would, and he hits nothing but air.

Yeah! Fucking _sweet,_ man!

The crowd breaks out into yells, whistles, chants, and cheers of approval, and I can't help the grin that breaks out on my face…or my fist pump of triumph. Every win is a reason to celebrate, of course. Doesn't matter if it was spring training, the regular season, playoffs or the _World Series_. To me, _every_ game counts. I nod to the crowd that is still shouting and cheering, and I take my _Boston Red Sox_ hat off and hold it in the air to salute the fans, as I walk towards the dugout from the pitcher's mound. The crowd gets even louder, and my grin grows wider knowing that they're _all_ cheering for me and my teammates. Their support and love for us and the game is what makes this all worthwhile. As much as I love the game - as much as we _all_ love the game - it means nothing without the loyal fans who buy the tickets and the team merchandise to keep us all employed, as well as by watching us on TV.

Without the fans, we have nothing, and _that_ is why I love them and give it my all whenever I'm out on the mound. I do it for _them_ to show my appreciation for their support and love for me and the _Red Sox_ , and I do it to prove that I really _am_ worth the _huge ass_ sum of money that the _Red Sox_ offered me in the latest contract that I signed with them. I do it all to prove it to the _Red Sox_ organization, to the _MLB_ , to the fans, but also to myself.

I want to show people that I'm no flash in the pan or fluke.

I worked my ass off from the time I was five and first held a baseball to build and develop my skills to the level that they are today, I _also_ do it to prove to everyone that told me when I was growing up that I _couldn't_ do this wrong. You can do _anything_ if you put your mind to it and take advantage and capitalize on every opportunity that comes your way, and _that_ is what I prove and will continue to prove every day until the last day of my _MLB_ career.

Ryan catches up to me as we walk to the dugout, and he removes his catcher's mask. Even before he does, I can see the grin on his tanned sweaty face smudged with the eyeblack running down his cheeks. "Nice throw, Bro!" He says slapping my back _harder_ than necessary, like usual.

I grin right back. "Four-seams are my specialty." Something that he knows damn well, but he _does_ have a point that after throwing over a hundred pitches today that my arm would be protesting _anything_ like that four-seamer, which is _why_ he was hesitant to suggest my signature pitch in the first place. He didn't want me to throw out my arm or throw a wild pitch and potentially cost us the game.

"I'm aware, Skywalker," Ryan smirks and places his left hand on my right shoulder, giving it a squeeze, as we continue our walk. "But, even _you_ get tired, and wild pitches _do_ happen, even to the best of 'em. I didn't want this to be a wild pitch, as _I'd_ have to be the one listening to you bitch about it and waking me up early to practice with you when you don't need any more damn practice than normal. You're a great pitcher, and _we_ work great as a team. _That_ is why I look out for your best interests…even when _you_ don't."

And, I truly appreciate that. I _do._

Truth is, my arm _is_ sore, and that fastball probably wasn't necessary, but the way I see things is simple: Go big or go home. There's no in between. I wanted to end that game on a high note, to end it with my signature pitch, and that is _exactly_ what I did. I'm not going to regret doing that or throw something else when I _knew_ that I had it in me to throw _that_ pitch. Still, I do appreciate Ryan always looking out for me and being there for me…even if he _does_ takes his self-appointed role as my 'big brother' a little _too_ seriously.

 _Shit,_ he isn't even _three weeks older_ than me, but he does have three younger siblings and really _is_ the big brother in his family, and he considers me to be the little brother he always wished he had growing up instead of his three little sisters, who don't share our passion for baseball.

"I appreciate that Ry, I really _do."_ I look over at his sweaty face. "But, you know me and what I'm capable of. I wouldn't do anything that would risk a loss for our team if I didn't think I could honestly do it. I may be a stubborn asshole, and I may also be cocky as hell, but that is because I _know_ my limits and when to push and when _not_ to push them. He was oh-for-three tonight and struck out twice on my curveball. That's what he was expecting, since it was already successful against him tonight, and when I threw my fastball, he - and everyone else - thought I was worn out. He swung a little too late and that time cost him. I like to go out with a bang, as you well know, and that bang tonight was the sound of my one hundred and _two_ mile per hour fastball landing in _your_ glove."

He concedes my point with a nod. He of _all_ people knows me best. We've known each other since we were nine and been playing together since we were twelve, and he was _always_ my catcher- on and _off_ the field. He's my best friend, has been since we met in seventh grade, and it's nice to see him worry about me, but he has his own life to worry about, and I'm a big boy now. I can take care of myself.

Even if he doesn't _think_ I can.

"Well done, Anakin." Ben, our manager or coach, as we sometimes call him, says as we walk down the stairs of the dugout. "You used his weakness against him, something _every_ great pitcher does. Use your strengths against their weaknesses. _That_ is how you win a game." Something that he's drilled into me since I was just a little boy, know your enemy. That is why we always watch video of our opponents before a game. We get to know their strengths _and_ their weaknesses and know exactly how to exploit them. It has served us well, not to mention it's standard operating procedure for most professional teams in most sports.

I nod, taking my hat off and run my biceps across my sweaty face. Sweat trickles into my eyes and stings. I wipe it away with the front of my jersey and walk with the guys into the clubhouse. "I thought for sure you'd pull me out of the game. I mean, _I_ probably would've if I was you." I can't help but say. He _was_ tempted to pull me out and put in the closer but didn't because I asked- more like _told_ \- him to let me stay in and finish the game.

And, finished the game, I did.

"I would've had you been anyone else," he admits, walking on my left with Ryan on my right. " _But_ , I know you better than anyone else on the team, you and Ryan both. I know both of your limits and how well you both operate under pressure, and I know you both take every game personally. You wouldn't let your team down if you thought you were done. If I thought you were past your limits, then you _would've_ been pulled when it was just a man on first and second, but you're a stubborn son of a bitch, and your eyes and body told me you still had some game left in you." He turns his head to face me, his light blue, almost gray eyes, landing on mine, " _That_ is why I let you stay in, and you would've too, if you were able to see the determined look you gave me."

He always did have faith in me, but I've also known him for fifteen years now. I've known the man for as long as I've known Ryan, and Ben helped me become the pitcher that I am today, and he taught me much about the game from when he played in the _MLB_ himself. If he hadn't torn his ACL all of those years ago, he no doubt would've been a _Hall of Fame_ pitcher by now instead of our manager.

"Well, thanks," I say, nodding to the security guards at the entrance to our clubhouse and walk in. Most of the guys are already in here and taking off their dirty uniforms that are covered in grass stains, dirt, and plain old sweat. Three _very_ beautiful elements of baseball. They all slap me on the back or swat my ass, congratulating me on a game well done, as I walk over to my locker and unbutton my shirt, pull it off and throw it down on the bench behind me. Next, I take off my red undershirt, throw it on the bench, then step out of my cleats and unbuckle my belt, unbutton my pants and step out of them putting them down with my shirt and undershirt. Finally, I remove my jock strap and my socks then grab a clean towel from my locker and tie it round my hips and make my way toward the showers. After every game, I take a shower like all of the guys do to clean up before changing into clean clothes, eating and heading out, or heading out and grabbing something to eat before heading home for the night (or to our hotel if we're playing an away game).

This night is no different. I shower, wash my hair, dry off, and once I'm back at my locker, I change into some clean comfortable clothes. A baby blue polo shirt, dark brown belt, and lightly faded blue jeans and some socks and my white _Nike_ sneakers is what I put on, and I grab my gray and black backpack, which holds all of my essentials, slinging it over my shoulder and exit the locker room and prepare to move out to the dining hall to grab some grub, when I'm stopped in my tracks by the most beautiful woman I've _ever_ seen.

She's standing next to another knock out gorgeous woman whom I know to be Dormé, Ryan's fiancée. I've been over to their house on many occasions and have seen Dormé many times over the last two years since she and Ryan began dating, but I've never seen _this_ woman with them before. My mouth opens slightly, my breath hitches in my chest, and I feel sweat suddenly break out across my top lip, and a fine tremor sweeps across my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

 _Fuck me!_ She is simply _stunning!_

She's obviously petite. Dormé is a svelte five foot nine, and this woman is maybe about five feet three, nice and tiny compared to my own six foot two frame. She's also most likely less than half my weight, probably not even a hundred pounds soaking wet - and that is _definitely_ something I'd like to see. Her dark curly chestnut hair reflects the lighting of the clubhouse making it appear to shimmer, as it frames her face with these beautiful long ringlets going down past her shoulders to about her bra line. _Wow._ I suddenly want to run my fingers through it and see if it's as silky soft as it looks. I bet it is. Her skin is only slightly tan, her cheeks have a faint rosy tint to them, giving her a healthy glowing look. Her dark chocolate colored eyes are wide and looking around the clubhouse with keen interest, and almost like she knows I'm ogling her, her eyes suddenly turn and lock with mine, and I _swear_ I feel electricity passing between us. I suddenly feel all tingly and warm, really alert and _alive_ in a way I hadn't before _._ She's by far the single _most_ beautiful woman I've _ever_ seen, and I don't make that statement lightly, especially considering I've dated supermodels, _Playboy Playmates_ , and _Hollywood_ actresses on far more occasions than I care to count.

Yet, she's unlike _any_ woman I've ever met before. The models and actresses that I've dated always had a flair to them, some _wild_ side, and she doesn't even look like she's capable of _having_ a wild side. She looks like the proverbial 'girl next door.' It's probably sacrilege just using the word 'wild' around her. She just looks too _good,_ too _pure_ and _innocent_ for a guy like me. And, she _definitely_ doesn't look like the hookup type of girl, and trust me, I would _know_ if she was.

I'm an expert on _those._

Ryan looks over at me and smiles, motioning at me to join them. "Anakin," he calls me over. I walk over to him and Dormé, reluctantly taking my eyes off their friend. They know me well, and I doubt very seriously they'd want me anywhere _near_ her. "This is Padmé. She's Dormé's best friend."

Ahhh…I've heard her name mentioned by Ryan and Dormé before, but I've never actually seen her until now. Trust me, I would've remembered if I'd ever met _this_ gorgeous creature before.

 _Padmé_. Damn, her name could roll off my tongue like honey. She's definitely _too_ much of an angel for a sinner like me.

"It's, uh, nice to meet you, Padmé." I stutter, kicking myself mentally for that slip up. _Way to go, Sky-fucking-walker, real smooth._ "Nice jersey." I add with a smile, nodding at the shirt she's wearing, trying to redeem myself when I notice she's wearing _my_ jersey, number 21.

"It's nice to meet you, too," she says with a dazzling smile, showing off her perfect white teeth. Her voice is soft and sweet, one that I could fall asleep listening to her talk, not in like a boring way where she puts me to sleep because of boring conversation but because of how smooth and _soothing_ her voice is. She extends her delicate tiny hand for a handshake, and I meet her halfway, engulfing her soft fingers in my much larger and calloused ones. Her hand is so soft and tender that, I'm not gonna lie, I'd like her to rub it up and down my naked body, and maybe- just _maybe_ \- use it to touch other...more _intimate_ parts of my body as well.

 _Fuck have mercy!…_ It's a wonder I don't rage a boner just thinking about _that._

"Would you, uh, like me to sign your jersey?" I cough lightly and ask her, raising my eyebrows and releasing her hand after a moment or two of enjoying the feeling of her soft hand in mine. Honestly, I'd just like to hear her _talk._ Her soft voice just has a way of penetrating through to me, and even though it isn't loud or commanding like mine is, it reverberates through my head anyway.

She nods, a slight curve of her pretty pink lips encompassing her flawless, perfect round face. "Thank you. I'd like that."

So would I. _Anything just to get closer to you and to imagine how you'd feel under me_ , _as I fu-...Whoa! Stop that!_ I shake away my dirty thoughts forcefully. Those are two things I'd _love_ to experience with her, and it isn't _not_ like me to sleep with a girl that I just met. I mean, I don't have a player reputation off the field for nothing, but Padmé isn't just any girl to fuck, and I'm a little shocked to realize I don't want to _just_ sleep with her like all the others. No. She interests me in a way none of them _never_ did, and for that reason alone, she _intrigues_ me, and I find I want to unravel the beautiful puzzle that is Padmé.

Removing a black _Sharpie_ from my backpack, I ask her where she'd like me to sign it, and she sweeps her long curls over one shoulder and says on her back above the numbers, and that's where I sign my autograph. Pressing lightly against her back, I feel her soft tender silky skin as I sign my name just above her shoulder blades, and it gets me close enough to smell her scent. I can't help taking a deep breath in. Oh _fuck_ , she smells _wonderful!_ She smells of warm exotic spices with a touch of floral accents that I can't quite place and pure woman, pure beautiful Padmé.

God, I want to bury my nose against the crook of her neck and nuzzle her skin slowly, committing her richly feminine scent to memory.

"We're heading out for drinks and some grub, care to join us?" Dormé asks with a raise of one brow. Stepping back from signing Padmé's shirt, I turn to stare at Dormé. I'm at a loss for words here. Doesn't she _know_ you can't put a drink in front of an alcoholic, pills or powder in front a drug addict, or a beautiful woman in front of _me?_ I'm definitely no drunk or junkie, but I _do_ love women, and women love _me,_ but I'll admit, they're not usually women like her, like _Padmé._

Still, how can I pass up an opportunity to spend more time with her when she about knocked me out of the ballpark the moment I laid eyes on her? I can't, so I nod helplessly, knowing full well that this isn't a good idea. Anakin Skywalker doesn't _date_ , no longer than one night anyway, and I'm entering foreign territory just by agreeing to go with them, but I can't stop the words from falling out of my mouth. "I'd love to," I answer, trying to be all suave and cool about it and knowing I probably look like a damn deer in headlights instead, just staring at Padmé, earning myself a knowing grin from Ryan and a smile from both Dormé and Padmé. "Where we going?"

" _The Bullpen."_

I nod, knowing the place very well. It's a sports bar that's only a few blocks away. A lot of us on the team frequent there. It's also got a dance floor and some _great_ steak tips. "Nice, I'll meet you there."

We walk out to the players' private parking lot where players and the coaching staff park our cars, and Ryan gets in his new gray _Audi Q7_ fully loaded SUV with Dormé and Padmé and pulls away as I smile at my car. It's kinda hard _not_ to. She's a brand new 2017 _Lamborghini Centenario Roadster._ Gray with light tan interiors, she cost me over two million dollars, but I believe that she's well worth the price I paid for her, especially since there have only been a limited supply of forty manufactured, and mine was one of the first ones released.

Starting her up, she purrs like a kitten, and by that, I mean roars like a hungry lion, and I love every bit of it. The security guard opens the parking gate and waves bye to me as I pull out and turn onto the crowded city streets. There are people mulling about everywhere still, and they all recognize me immediately as I drive past, occasionally waving at the fans and being careful not to hit anyone as I head away from _FP_. It's well known that I drive this car, and I'm the only one on the team who drives a _Lamborghini_. I continue to wave to the crowds, as I weave through traffic for a few blocks before arriving at the restaurant and a valet rushes over to greet me.

"Welcome to _The Bullpen_ , Mister Skywalker," the valet, Angelo, says with a smile. "I'll take good care of her, Sir."

"You'd better, Angelo," I reply, giving him a stern look. "She's a _very_ expensive lady. If you scratch her up or get a dent in her, then you buy her. Understand?" I tilt my head at him with a knowing look.

He nods, gulping, his face turning red in embarrassment, and I slap him on the back with a grin. "Relax, I was just kidding. Just don't crash? Okay?"

He smiles in relief at me, his shoulders visibly sagging, and assures me he won't. I nod at him and head toward the entrance. A long line forms outside of the sports bar, and they all talk excitedly and point at me as I approach, but the bouncer lets me in immediately. "Welcome back, Anakin," he says with a smile, opening the door for me and ushering me inside.

"Thanks, George," I grin and pat him on the back as I pass him and head inside where a waitress greets me with a smile and leads me back to where Ryan, Dormé and Padmé are already sitting in a four person booth, Ryan and Dormé on one side and Padmé on the other where I will obviously sit, and my guard is _immediately_ raised.

Are they trying to set us up? It wouldn't be the first time they tried that, but none of their female friends have ever lasted me longer than one _satisfying_ night. So, it makes me wonder…Is _that_ why Padmé is wearing my jersey and why she came to the game with Dormé? Are they really trying to be _subtle_ about this, or does Padmé know she's being set up with me, too? Or, are they setting us _both_ up without telling us first? Never can tell with them.

But, all questions fly out of my mind once Padmé looks up at me and smiles a blinding, breathtaking smile and moves over to give me some room to sit next to her, her jean clad thigh brushing against my own as I take my seat beside her, and I feel a little thrill shoot right to my groin at the innocent contact. Suddenly, I am thankful as fuck at the rather dark interior of the place.

Clearing my throat, I thank her as I shift in my seat and notice her gaze wandering around the bar at the other patrons who are blatantly staring at our table. "Looks like everyone around here knows who _you_ are," she says. I follow her gaze around the bar and see what she means. It isn't often when I can just walk around without being recognized, especially not _here_ in Boston and especially _not_ when I just pitched a winning game.

But, I'm used it and shrug, not letting the attention get to me. "I come here often after games. Besides, I'm used to the attention. It comes with the territory." I tell her, as a waitress comes up to me and places a glass of water before me. "Thanks, Arlene."

"My pleasure, Anakin." Arlene says with a smile, pulling out her notebook to take our orders. "Steak tips, like usual?" She asks me, eyebrows raised questioningly. I nod silently and take a big sip of ice cold water. She then takes everyone else's orders, and moves off to go get their drinks, her green eyes lingering rather lustfully on me as she walks out of sight.

A little boy, maybe six or seven years old, suddenly comes to stand next to me, his deep brown eyes penetrating mine as he asks, "Can I get your autograph, please?" He hands me a _Sharpie_ and points to his jersey. He's obviously a fan of mine, considering he's wearing my jersey, and I smile and nod, taking the marker from him and sign my name on his sleeve. The little boy beams at me with a gush of thanks and takes his _Sharpie_ back before running back to a table not far from us where his parents are sitting with a young baby girl in a high chair, presumably his little sister. The parents look over at me with a look of gratitude, and I nod, letting them know that I was happy to do it.

Fans always come up to me asking for selfies and autographs, and I'm happy to pose and sign for them, but there are times when I'd just like to be Anakin again and not have people recognize me everywhere I go. It _is_ the price of being a well-known athlete, of course, and one that I _wouldn't_ change for the world, but it _does_ get tiresome sometimes.

"Awww…That was nice," Padmé says, looking over with this sweet smile at the little boy where he's still beaming and looking down at his shirt in amazement, like he can't _believe_ that I actually signed it for him. I doubt they came here expecting to see me after the game, but it obviously made that little boy's night, and I am glad to see that bright smile on his face, and it's all because of a simple autograph.

A smile tugs at my lips at the boy for a moment, then I turn to face Padmé with a shrug. "Signing autographs and taking pictures with fans is all part of the job, the price of stardom, if you will, and we all accept that...But, I won't lie, part of the reason why I wanted to become a _Major League Baseball_ player was for that very reason. Not so much for being recognized everywhere I go, but for being able to do little things like sign that little boy's jersey and make his night. He's one of my fans. I never turn down a fan, and now he can go home with his signed shirt, and I'm sure he'll always remember this and maybe even cherish tonight, y'know."

She nods silently at my explanation, but the penetrating look she gives me lets me know that she _knows_ there's more to it than _that_ , and suddenly, I feel a _little_ uncomfortable, like I'm exposed, and she can see right through me.

Well, truth is, she's right. There _is_ more to it than that. _I_ was that little boy once upon a time, and I know how it is to meet your idol like that. if I turned that kid down, then it'd only make me look bad _and_ hurt the kid, and I wouldn't want either of those things to happen, especially not the latter. Kids _are_ the future. That kid sitting across from us and beaming at my autograph might someday be where _I_ am today, a starting pitcher for the _Red Sox._ I don't want to be the guy who discourages those dreams. Growing up was _really_ hard for me and my mother. We lived in poverty until she married my stepdad, and we moved to his farm north of Boston. Baseball is what saved me from falling in with the wrong crowd, and it was something I fell in love with from the moment I first wore a baseball glove on my hand and threw a baseball when I was just five years old. It was love at first pitch, something I saw myself doing forever, and now that I'm here in the majors, I want to be a positive influence for kids that are just like I was, and I do _all_ I can to encourage them to play baseball.

It's a great sport, the best ever.

I keep those thoughts to myself though. There's no need for her to know how poor I was growing up. I don't need any pity from anyone. Growing up the way I did is what _drove_ me to become who I am today, and I know my mother's proud of me. She tells me quite often she is, and I just brush it off.

It's embarrassing.

Ryan and Dormé talk to each other quietly, leaving Padmé and myself to converse on our own, and I decide to get to know her better and to talk about something other than myself and how I interact with my fans. The only things I know about her are that she's drop-dead gorgeous, that her name is Padmé, and that she's best friends with Dormé.

That isn't much to go on.

"So, Padmé," I say, looking over at her, as she turns to face me again. "What do you do to pay the bills?"

Dormé's a famous model, and a damn good one, but I _don't_ think Padmé's a model. For one thing, she doesn't act like one. Most of the models I've met _looked_ like models. Naturally, not all models are created equal, but what I mean is they _all_ care too much about their appearance and _look_ like they're trying to dress to impress no matter where they go. Ok, Dormé being the _one_ exception I personally know of to that general rule of thumb. Padmé, however, isn't wearing _any_ make up as far as I can tell, and she's just wearing my _Red Sox_ jersey, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Simple, unpretentious clothes that show off her _perfect_ feminine shape to perfection, I must say. Don't get me wrong, she _is_ drop-dead gorgeous and doesn't need _any_ make up to enhance her features, but that is precisely what clues me to the conclusion that she _isn't_ a model. She's gorgeous, but in a fresh-faced, wholesome kinda way I find _infinitely_ more appealing. Truthfully, I'm a guy that finds makeup to be highly overrated. Especially when it gets smeared all over _my_ face or _my_ clothes when I'm trying to make out with a woman who's wearing a lot of it. And, if Padmé _was_ a model, then I _definitely_ would've seen her face before…and remembered her. Dormé is a beautiful woman, true, but Padmé is in a league of her own and would be on the cover of magazines all over the world, not to mention be seen all over the TV, if she were a model, and I know for a fact that I've _never_ seen her before.

With a face like hers, it'd be hard _not_ to remember her.

Now, her body _also_ doesn't scream model to me. Most guys like big breasts, big behinds, and long legs that go on forever. Don't get me wrong. I'd be lying if I said those things didn't catch my attention, too. They do. Padmé, however, has none of those things, but I like that about her. That she's different from the busty femme fatales actually makes her stand out from the crowd in an amazingly good way. She may not have big breasts, a big behind or legs that go on for days, at least not from what I can tell, but she _does_ have curves in all the right places that appear proportionate to her size, and she has the face, the eyes, the hair, and the voice of an angel. She doesn't need any of those other qualities to be attractive and appealing. She's perfect to me just the way she is, and I haven't even kissed her or seen her naked yet.

That I'd _like_ to see her naked and to kiss her long and deep are givens, of course. This _is_ me, remember?

She takes a slow sip of her white wine before answering me somewhat shyly, her eyes refusing to meet mine. "Well, I'm not a model like Dormé, _obviously_ ," she says, looking down at her body self-consciously, a rosy blush sweeping across her cheeks.

Wait…What? Ok, something strikes me wrong about her response.

I mean, yeah, it was obvious to me, of course, but I'm _me._ A _Cy Young Award_ winning pitcher, _MLB_ 's most sought after (and notoriously 'bad boy') bachelor, and dashingly handsome or sexy man, depending on who you ask. But, her _'obviously not'_ being a model doesn't sit right with me. Not at all. I'd damn well buy any magazine _she_ was on the cover of just so I could stare at her face and create fantasies of myself in bed with her- not like I _haven't_ done that before. I have. Although, I was usually lucky enough to bring those fantasies to life with the women actually _on_ those covers.

But, this isn't about _me._ This is about _her,_ and I feel the need to get to the bottom of this surprising inferiority complex she's got happening, because it's _so_ wrong and totally unnecessary.

"Why _'obviously'?"_ I ask her with a frown, pushing away my own thoughts and focusing solely on _her,_ watching her change of expression intently.

She blushes again, her cheeks and face turning pink in embarrassment. " _Well_...let's just say I've been told that I didn't have what they were ' _looking for_ ' when I auditioned with Dormé for her first gig. I mean, it's not like I was _planning_ on being a model, no, but she dragged me with her anyway, and I just…" She breaks off speaking and shakes her head and sighs, and I'm a little shocked to see her eyes get a little glassy, like she's holding back tears. "I'm _never_ doing that again," she finally mutters, almost under her breath.

 _What the fuck?!_ Was the guy or woman _blind?_

Padmé's twisting her wine glass on the table in her left hand, and I can feel her tapping her right foot against the floor nervously. _Damn._ Apparently, the idiots who were doing the scouting at that gig did a real number on Padmé's psyche with their thoughtless comments, giving her some kinda _Ugly Duckling_ complex when she's actually a beautiful and elegant swan. I suddenly decide she needs some genuine reassurance about her appearance…and I'm _just_ the guy to give it to her. "Forget 'em. They're wrong, and that's _their_ fucking loss. _I_ would've signed you immediately if I was a modeling talent agent. You may not be _big_ like most models, no, but you're _hot_ , appealing, and attractive just the way you are, Padmé, and I'd _definitely_ buy any magazine you were in. Big breasts and long legs may be appealing to some men, true, but not all, and to _me_ , you're beautiful and perfect and sexy just the way you are."

She blushes hotly at my compliment, looking demurely down at the tabletop, and thankfully, Ryan and Dormé continue on in their conversation oblivious to ours...or so it seems anyway. You never really know with them, and if they _are_ setting us up, then they're probably listening in anyway. Let them. For once, they actually brought an _intriguing_ woman with them that may last me longer than just one night. I don't think I'd get to bring Padmé home with me tonight anyway, because she definitely _isn't_ that type, just as I expected. Which, for some odd reason I can't fathom, that realization actually ignites a spark of something like _pride_ within me.

She's shy. It's endearing really, and she obviously _doesn't_ know how beautiful she truly is, which, again, is problematic for me. Can't she _see_ what I _see?_ Why would she let some sleaze-ball put her down about her appearance? It makes no fucking sense to me. She's got _nothing_ to be ashamed of. She's _just_ as gorgeous as any _Victoria's Secret_ model. Period. I know. I've dated quite a few of them. Still, seeing how uncomfortable she is about the current topic, I let it go and steer us back to my original question.

"So, if you're not a model, then what _do_ you do?" I ask her, while taking a sip of my ice water.

She's visibly relieved at getting back to this question. Hmm…I'll have to work on getting her to see how beautiful she truly is but only a little at a time. I just hope I _get_ that opportunity. "I'm a teacher," She smiles, her whole face lighting up, clearly proud and happy doing what she does for a living.

A teacher, huh? That isn't _exactly_ what I thought she'd say but doesn't entirely surprise me either. I'm sure _all_ the boys in her classes can't peel their eyes off of her. I know _I_ wouldn't be able to. "Oh, yeah? What grade?" High school doesn't seem to fit her. Elementary maybe, but I'd peg her more as a middle school teacher. There's something about her that seems to lean toward middle school. I can't really tell how old she is. She's not much older than me, if she _is_ in fact older than me. Based on her appearance, I'd say we're definitely somewhat close in age. But, it'd be rude to ask her that outright. So, I won't.

"Seventh grade," she answers, not surprising me one bit.

I nod with a smile. Yep, she definitely looks like a middle school teacher. I'm not entirely sure _what_ middle school teachers look like compared to elementary or high school teachers, considering they could be any age, but it's just her style that made me think middle school. "Twelve-year-olds, must be a bunch of hellions." I get the chills just thinking of it, and she laughs at my reaction, and I freeze at the sound. _Holy Shit!_ Her laugh is by _far_ the sexiest and cutest sound I've _ever_ heard. I could die a happy man being able to listen to her laugh for the rest of my life.

"They're not _that_ bad," she insists, but I must not look convinced, because she continues, "They're mostly just experiencing changes in their bodies and are wrapped up in becoming teenagers. Just a bunch of misunderstood youth."

"If you say so...," I say skeptically, raising an eyebrow just as our food comes and is placed before us. "Thanks Arlene, looks great," I say, flicking a quick gaze up at our waitress before looking back down at my steaming plate of steak tips.

She smiles at me as she saunters off, leaving us to eat our meal. Padmé ordered a grilled chicken salad with lots of different types of lettuce and other veggies in it. That doesn't really surprise me either. She _is_ small and slim. I wouldn't be surprised if she is often mistaken for a student rather than a teacher at her school.

We eat our dinner in comfortable silence until she leans her head my way and looks at my steak, pointing at it with her fork. " _That_ looks really good," she says, matter-of-factly, causing me to smirk.

"That's because it's, y'know, _real food_." I say, stabbing a piece of steak with my fork and offering it to her. "Want a piece?" She nods enthusiastically and leans over, wrapping her pretty pink lips around my fork and eats the proffered piece of meat. For a moment, I just blink at her, shocked that she did that. I mean, I didn't think she'd _actually_ eat it off my fork, but I admit, I kinda like that she did. I mean, it's sort of sexy and _intimate,_ in a way, and it gives me hope that we may just be getting along well enough for her to want to go out with me sometime with just the two of us, and then we can put those pretty pink lips of hers to much better use...

She savors the taste of the bite, closing her eyes while she chews slowly, like she never ate steak before. Slowly, she swallows and then opens her eyes to beam at me. " _Now_ I see why you usually order steak tips. Not only do they _look_ good, but they _are_ good."

"Damn right, I only get the _best."_ It may be a little arrogant or egotistical of me to say so, but it's the truth, and I'm _not_ about to regret how much my life has changed for the better since I made it to the pro's. Not to mention that, without baseball, I wouldn't be here right now with the _most_ beautiful woman on the planet sitting just to my right.

She nods, her face going neutral while she sits up straighter and shifts away from me _just_ a touch, before going back to eating her salad. "I can see that. It must be nice." The _way_ she says it makes me raise a challenging eyebrow at her.

What exactly did she mean by _that?_

"Growing up the way I did, it _is_ nice." I sigh, taking a sip of my water. The urge to drink some beer is getting pretty strong right about now, but I don't drink before or after a game, and I'm not about to start now. No matter how strong that urge is. I look over at her, a frown on my face, and when I speak, my voice has a definite defensiveness to it. "I made this great life for myself coming from literally _nothing_ , ok. I'm not about to regret it or feel bad about living the privileged life I now live, because I worked pretty damn hard to _earn_ it. Playing baseball, as I do, _isn't_ easy work, no matter how easy and effortless it may seem. There are one hundred and sixty-two games a year, and I play one out of every five games, throwing about a hundred pitches each game. That takes a _serious_ toll on my arm and shoulder, and it took a _lot_ of hard work for me to become the great pitcher that I am today, and I'm _only_ twenty-four." I finish my spiel with a huff, shooting her an intense look before turning back to my meal and forking another piece of steak.

Yeah, I'm going to need a beer, I think. I totally wasn't intent on telling her _any_ of this. I don't like to bring up my poor upbringing. It's nobody else's business after all. My mother did her best and raised me right, but she had to work her ass off to do it, and I love and respect her for it. It wasn't easy for her as a single mother, but she _always_ put me first, even if it meant she had to go without eating for a night, which happened more times than I'm sure even _I'm_ aware of. So, _no_ , I'm not going to feel bad about how much money I make now or about my new lifestyle.

I've worked my ass off since I was little to get here. I think I earned it.

"I didn't mean any offense by it," she says, calmly, eyebrows arched. Okay, maybe I overreacted a little but that's one topic I'm sensitive about. Talking about money is another, even if I'm well off _now_. But, I'm not going to mention it. Before I can respond to her comment, though, she continues speaking, "I grew up in a wealthy upper middle class family. We never had any financial problems to speak of. So, I am the _last_ person to judge anyone about money or living extravagantly. I just meant that it must be nice only getting the best."

I'm not so sure she meant that, not with her tone and the _way_ she said it. If she did have a privileged life like she said she did growing up, then she should just say she understands and not say it as a cynical comment, but nevertheless, I'll let it drop. How is she supposed to know me and my sore topics? I doubt she's that into sports, and if she _is_ into sports and knows who I am, I doubt she knows that much about my childhood. It isn't a secret per se. It _is_ known, and I have talked publicly about it before some, but I don't like to speak much about how unfortunate our circumstances were.

Fortunately, Ryan and Dormé speak up at that point, and we turn our attention to them. "Anakin, _no,_ " Ryan says looking at me with a smirk. "We're not here trying to set you two up." He must've known what I was thinking. I mean, what else was I supposed to think when they've done this before? More than once, as a matter of fact. "We asked you both here to ask if you'd be my best man..."

"And, you be my maid of honor," Dormé adds, looking at Padmé with a huge smile, before she smirks and adds, "However, if you two _do_ want to see each other again and _alone_...then sure, that was our intention all along. We'll take the credit as matchmakers."

I didn't see that coming. At least not tonight.

Well, of _course_ Ryan was going to ask me to be his best man. That was a given, but I didn't think he'd ask me to join them tonight with the drop-dead gorgeous teacher in tow to ask us together to be their best man and maid of honor.

"I'd be honored," I say with a huge grin looking between the happy couple. It sometimes makes me sick seeing the way they look at each other, but then I met Padmé and _may_ have just screwed that up royally by snapping at her about a comment that I probably misheard or misunderstood. People have brought it up before, the whole rags to riches deal about me as a kid from the slums to my multimillion dollar _MLB_ contract today. It was mostly those cable gossip shows on the celebrity channels and wasn't supposed to be insulting, but that's how I took it in my insecurity about my childhood.

Ryan grins at me, as I stand up and pull him into a hug. He's like a brother to me. Why wouldn't I accept? I know for sure that if _I_ ever get married, I'd want him to be my best man.

"I knew you'd agree," he says, just inches away from my ear. "I _also_ knew you'd agree to come to dinner tonight with us. She's _hot_ , isn't she?"

I snort. I _knew_ that was why he asked me here. To be his best man _and_ to hook me up. Figures. "Yeah, you asshole. She definitely is _that._ Next time, why don't you give me a heads up beforehand, huh?" I pull out of the hug to see him grinning wolfishly at me.

"Will there _be_ a next time?" He asks with a devilish glint in his eye, as we retake our seats. Padmé and Dormé are excitedly talking to each other, basically ignoring us guys and leaving us to talk while we continue to eat.

Padmé definitely is the _most_ beautiful woman I've ever seen, no doubt about it, and if I could, I would _love_ to see her again. But, I may have just ruined that by snapping at her. I'll probably need to do some repair work on that, like pronto, to ensure I didn't alienate her and ruin my chances of scoring a date with her, and hearing the music and looking over and seeing people out on the dance floor...I get an idea.

"Padmé," she looks over at me, her beautiful chocolate brown eyes landing on my azure blue ones. "Would you like to dance with me?"

I admit, I've kinda got butterflies here. What if she says no?

"I'd love to. Thank you."

Fuck, yeah! I actually held my breath waiting for her answer, and I release it in a silent _whoosh_ in relief.

She smiles a breathtaking smile and places her hand in mine when I stand up and extend it to her, and we walk out to the dance floor. With each step, I vow to capitalize on this chance for me to do some repair work here. I don't even pay attention to the slow song that's playing. This might be a sports bar, true, but the music isn't _always_ so adrenaline pumping.

We stand out on the floor, and I take her soft tender hand in mine and place my other hand on her waist enjoying the extremely close contact between us. She's so small the top of her head barely reaches my shoulder, but I like that, I like her...a _lot_. Enough that I'd like to see her again, or I wouldn't be ready to tell her _any_ of this as she presses up closer against me, and we sway slowly with the music.

"I'm sorry about snapping at you earlier," I say quietly. She looks up at me, and her brown eyes sparkle. "I had a shitty childhood, ok. My mother was a single parent. I never knew my father, and we didn't have _any_ money. Baseball is all I really had besides my mom. It was my passion, my love, and I worked my _ass_ off to make it to where I am today. I'm just a bit touchy when it comes to people talking about my financial situation and my childhood. You probably didn't know that. I mean, how could you? But, I'm sorry for practically biting your head off. You didn't deserve having me snap at you like I did."

I _don't_ deserve her! She shouldn't even _want_ to dance with me. I don't exactly have the best reputation when it comes to women. I know that, but I'm not going to give her _any_ more reasons to doubt me or to not want to see me. She is definitely a woman I'd like to continue seeing. She's actually the first woman _ever_ in my life, well since my first year in the minors anyway, that I'd like to see for more than just one date...which we didn't even go on yet. And, may not ever go on...

"Apology accepted." She says with a beautiful smile, looking up at me in a way that makes me want to lean down and capture her pretty pink lips with mine. "But, you have no reason to be sorry. If anything, _I_ should be apologizing to _you_ for my comment. I really didn't mean any offense by it, it's just...I work at a public school, and many kids there aren't fortunate. It's hard for me to draw that line between teacher and...I don't know, someone who wants to _help_ them more, I guess. I just can't help but want to help people succeed in life. These kids need a _good_ role model, someone to teach them that dreams really can and _do_ come true, and that if they want something bad enough, they can make it happen." She sighs and shakes her head. "Sorry, I get a little too caught up and rant. I just feel passionate about what I do and about wanting to help people that grew up less fortunate than I did."

She really doesn't see what I see, now does she? And, fuck, if I'm not _more_ impressed by her by the minute. I smile down at her and lean down to whisper in her ear, "Don't apologize for being you." Fuck, I think I'm falling in love with her already. "You're a good person, a great person rather. You care. And, that is more than a lot of people can say. And, I happen to do the exact same thing in my foundation. I help kids that are in a similar situation as I was in my youth. We give out scholarships for kids to go to college, and we help fund youth baseball teams, even donating the equipment to go along with it. I also run a charity celebrity softball game every year, and we donate the money to programs that help inner city youth achieve their dreams."

Starting a foundation was one of the first things I did when I got called up to the Majors from the AAA league. Mom actually runs it for me while I play during the season. It's one of my favorite things to do as a pro baseball player, and I constantly promote it whenever I'm out and about.

"Really?" She asks me, seeming surprised that I'd so such a thing or is she surprised that I like to see her rant about what she's passionate about? "That's amazing." She smiles up at me with her sexy breathtaking smile, and I return it as best I can, because suddenly I'm feeling weak in the knees.

" _You're_ amazing," I can't help but say softly. She blushes, turning her head to the side giving me a look at her profile. It's something I've stared at all night and realize with a jolt I'd love to see every day for the _rest_ of my life. "Padmé?" She looks back up at me, her cheeks still stained pink. "Go out with me. On a date, I mean. Just you and me."

Her jaw drops and her eyes grow big as saucers, as she looks up at me in shock. I smile at her reaction, and the impossibly strong urge to kiss her is coming back. "Y-you want to go out on a date…with _me?"_ Is she really _that_ surprised? How can she not see what I see? Her reaction solidifies my resolve.

Yes, I want this. So damn much it's almost scary.

"Yes, I do." I simply say before continuing. "Like I said, you're _amazing_ , Padmé, and I'd like to get to know you better. What do you say? Will you go on a date with me? Just the two of us?"

She still looks shocked, but then her lips curl up into a beautiful smile, and she nods. "I'd love, too. We'll just have to exchange numbers when we get back to the table." I have the sudden urge to jump up and pump my fist into the air in celebration. It feels like I just fucking won the _World Series!_

Grinning back at her, I tuck my head next to hers, pressing my cheek next to her ear and hold her closer in triumph. Man, this feels so _right_ with her.

We continue dancing for a few more minutes before returning to our table. Dormé and Ryan look at us like they know what we talked about, but we don't pay them any mind. We opt not to get dessert, instead just finishing our meal and drinks and pay our bill. Ryan says he'll pay for it since they invited us here, but naturally, I insist that I pay for at least _my_ food. He just gives me a pointed look and pays for it anyway without any further debate.

We stand up to leave, and Padmé and I pause to exchange numbers. Dormé and Ryan walk out ahead of us, hand-in-hand, as Padmé and I walk side by side, taking our time walking out of the restaurant, still ignoring all the stares coming my way. "I had fun," I tell her, enjoying the comfortable silence but wanting to hear her beautiful voice some more.

She smiles up at me, "Me too. More fun than I thought I'd have actually." There's a mischievous glint in her eye that makes me smile. Fuck, this woman is magnetizing.

"I'm glad I didn't bore you," I tease with a grin, making her laugh. We head outside, and the valet goes off to get my car. Ryan and Dormé are already waiting for theirs, too. "When are you free next?" I ask her.

She pulls out her phone and looks through her calendar. I do the same and notice that for the next week we'll be out of town for a few away games. "I have all summer off. I'm pretty much free most evenings right now. I just have some things to do during the day. Anytime works for me really."

I nod and smile, seeing the perfect day. "We'll be away for most of the coming week on a road trip. I pitch next week, our first home game back since we'll be gone for the next four games. How about you come to my game with Dormé, and then we'll head out afterwards? Just the two of us. Unless you want to wait until another day when I don't have a game?"

She shrugs, not seeming to mind either way. "I'll leave that up to you, just call me a few days before to make plans."

Just to hear you talk? Count me in. "Until then," I take her hand in mine and lift it to my lips and kiss the back of her hand, enjoying the feel of her soft, tender, and silky skin under my lips. I am also pleased to note the rosy blush that sweeps across her cheeks once more and how her eyes dilate. I also notice her pulse has sped up, hammering away in her wrist.

Good. This all bodes well for us. Of that, I'm sure.

The valets return with our cars, and after helping Padmé into the backseat of Ryan's SUV, I climb in my car, and we all depart, leaving me with the _biggest_ fucking grin of my life. I blast the music as I pull away, seeing nothing but that beautiful angel that just unknowingly stole my heart.

I wish this road trip was already over because I can't fucking wait to get back home and see Padmé again.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank for you reading Chapter One! I hope you enjoyed it!

I really wasn't sure how to write their first outing but I think it goes to show who they both are as people at first glance. I didn't want to spoil too much since they're just getting to know one another and since this wasn't really a date. I figured I'd just give you a taste of the blossoming romance before it really develops.

I'm also a big fan of baseball, just like I am football and therefore enjoy writing fanfics where Anakin is an athlete. I can totally vision him being a pitcher like he is here and just as cocky and arrogant, yet skilled at what he does. I can also totally see him being a ladies man and a player, its fun writing him as a player at least until he finds the one who makes him want to play another type of game...He isn't the dating type, but if he wants Padmé as bad as he does then he'll have to learn how to play that game and learn how to play it, he will.

Thanks again for reading! Please follow, favorite and review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: This chapter is definitely on the borderline of the M and T rating, mostly for language. Just keep that in mind, and note that this will be bumped up to M within the next few chapters. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **Game Plan: Chapter 2**

* * *

Its been three days. Three _whole_ days since I last pitched and met the woman who's been haunting me in my dreams and my every waking moment since then. There's literally _nothing_ I can do to get that sexy sprite of a woman out of my mind, and I'm more than a little worried about this.

I'm well known as being a player _off_ the field. If anyone _Google_ searched me, they'd probably find tons of pictures of me with a new date practically every night. Some of them famous, some not. Even nightly talk show hosts make wagers on who I'll be with next and how long that relationship will last.

They all know the same thing I do. The relationship _won't_ last, because I'm _not_ the relationship kind of guy. I don't _do_ more than one date with the same woman. What can I say? I'm just not boyfriend material and never pretended to be.

 _But_ , let me be clear about this.

It _isn't_ because I _can't_ commit. I don't have a phobia of commitment, and it's _not_ because I like seeing a new woman every night...No. It's just because I've never met a woman that made me want to see her more than once, that would make me forget about any and all other women. I never met a woman that so utterly captivated me like _Padmé_ captivated me just by walking into the clubhouse as she did three nights ago with Dormé.

Man, I can _still_ picture the moment in my mind when I first saw her.

I thought for sure that I must be dreaming. There was _no way_ someone as beautiful as Padmé could possibly exist. She was _way_ too incredibly gorgeous to be anything but an angel sent from heaven. That was one of the first things I thought of when I saw her. No lie. _None_ of the models or actresses I've ever been out with could even come close to touching _her_ beauty. Not one.

Just the way she _looked_ at me when we first laid eyes on one another, I swear I felt an electrical current pass between us, and I was a goner and didn't even know it yet. It didn't take long for me to figure it out, though. I mean, seriously? Who would've thunk that the biggest, most notorious playboy in the MLB would be _so_ enraptured by someone as tiny and beautiful as Padmé?

Certainly not _me_.

But, as I lay here in my hotel room after an away game against the _Yankees_ , which we won by the way, she's _all_ I can think about. Kicked back against my pillows, lounging in just my boxers, my phone's in my hand, and the screen is lit up with Padmé's name and number...staring at me, teasing me, _taunting_ me. Like she's _daring_ me to contact her.

All I have to do is tap the number, and I'll be able to hear her lovely melodic voice again...but I just can't do it. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head. It's a little past seven o'clock, early enough in the night to call her, sure; however, I still haven't figured out our plans for our date, and it'd probably be a little creepy for me to just call her outta the blue for no real reason and do what? Tell her I can't stop thinking about her and I just wanted to hear her voice? Yeah, she may think it's sweet or maybe even cute or endearing, something like that. I mean, that's what females _would_ think, but I'm not about to become a sap here. Forget it. _Not_ happening.

This is driving me insane, dammit! My feelings are just _too_ strong for her, and the thing is, I _barely_ know her! That's what I _don't_ get about this! For crying out loud, I met her _once,_ and we haven't even went out on a real date yet!

Groaning, I rake my right hand in frustration through my still damp, freshly showered hair. I feel my temples starting to throb with the beginnings of a headache. Where's the _Advil_ when you need it?

Y'know, I never really believed in love at first sight. Always thought it was nothing but a bunch of cinematic and poetic bullshit, but I'll be damned if I don't believe in it _now._ I believe in it so fucking much that instead of going out clubbing with some of the guys after today's game, I decided to come back here to my hotel room... _Alone!_ They all looked at me like I was some impostor wearing Anakin Skywalker's skin. That- or something was _seriously_ wrong with me. _Like I sprouted two heads or something,_ I snort.

Hell, maybe something _is_ seriously wrong with me. Maybe my teammates _are_ on to something here. I dunno.

Is _this_ what love feels like? An overwhelming need to...to what? See her beautiful face and body again? Hear her incredibly sexy laugh and voice? Feel her silken soft skin pressing against mine? Smell her sweet exotic scent wrapped around me? Taste her luscious lips...What I _imagine_ would be the single most _delicious_ thing I've ever tasted before?

The vision of her soft, full, pink lips forms before my mind's eye, and I can imagine myself holding her tight and leaning down to her and taking those sweet lips in mine and sweeping her up in my arms, carrying her to my bed, and then making love to her _all night,_ like I've _never_ made love before...Whoaaa...Hold up a sec. I shake my head to try and clear it.

Wow, I _really_ must be sick or... _really_ in love. _Naaa,_ it's gotta be sick. I can't be _in love!_ No fucking way, man!

Anakin Skywalker doesn't _make_ _love._ He _takes_ what he wants. He fucks a woman like she's _never_ been fucked before, and at the end of the night, both parties are left a sated, sweaty, satisfied mess.

Referring to myself in the third person also isn't healthy, or so they say (whoever ' _they'_ are), and yet, it seems like the only way I can remain sane at the moment. Still, it shocked the hell out of me to realize that just thinking of another woman being in my bed or looking at another woman like _that._..just seems _wrong_ to me now. Repulsive even. Damn, what is _happening_ to me?!

My dick has a mind of its own now, apparently, and it wants _nothing_ to do with _any_ woman but Padmé. I can't blame it, of course. I'm just glad nobody's noticed my _incredibly_ hard dick whenever I've even _thought_ of that beautiful angel. In the last three days, just _thinking_ of any another woman or even _looking_ at another woman made me go flaccid before I could even blink.

That's _never_ happened to me before. _Fuck_ , I think my balls are going blue because of how wound up they are. I gotta admit...There hasn't been a night in a very, _very_ long time, never mind _three_ _nights,_ where I went without a bedtime _companion_ for the evening. Probably not since I left the minor leagues for the MLB. I know, though, deep down in my gut, that she's worth it. Padmé is special. She's unlike _any_ other woman I've ever met, and I can't help it. She's become my total focus.

Putting my phone down on the table next to my huge king size bed, I sigh and turn over to try and fall asleep, scrunching the extra pillow up next to my chest. The fact that it's only just after seven o'clock at night and still daylight outside doesn't help. Even with the heavy drapes pulled all the way closed, I can still see the sun shining brightly against them. Dammit. This sucks.

Maybe I _should've_ gone out with the guys. It _is_ entirely possible to go to a nightclub and _not_ hook up with a girl for the night. Just go out and have some fun, do some dancing and drinking just to take my mind off _her_.

I weigh my options.

If I _do_ decide to go out now though, I'll have to deal with Rex and Cody and their nonsense, and I'm not really in the mood for that. Those two will push and push until they find out what's wrong with me, and I'm _not_ about to admit my feelings to them when I'm having a hard enough time dealing with them on my own.

What would the two of them know about love anyway? Probably as much as I do, which is absolutely _nothing._ Sighing again, I roll over, dragging the extra pillow with me and face away from the window.

If I'd known it would feel like _this,_ then I would've avoided Padmé completely. I _knew_ I should've said _no_ to dinner that night, but my _heart_ wanted her, and my mouth blurted out words that my brain _couldn't_ and _wouldn't_ stop.

Damn Ryan. I oughta knock his fucking teeth out the next time I see him for doing _this_ to me! He had to go fall in love and leave me alone with the twins, Cody and Rex, and _then_ he had to go out and about trying to set _me_ up with every female friend of his and Dormé's! Why couldn't he just leave me the hell alone, huh?! I was doing just _fine_ on my own!

I knew _exactly_ what I wanted, and that was to live my life to the fullest and enjoy myself while doing so. I'm doing _great_ in my professional career, given my young age, good health, and the bright future ahead of me in the MLB and with theRed Sox And, I was doing just _fine_ personally, too! So what if I took a different woman with me to bed every night!? I'm twenty-four _fucking_ years old! I'm _allowed_ to have some fun!

But _nooo_ , Ryan had to go fall in love and get engaged and then get the idea in his head that _I_ should do the same damn thing, like I'm his sorry ass friend who _can't_ get a date. Look, I've _never_ had a problem in _that_ department. Women throw themselves at me now, and truthfully, the girls in school did the same damn thing, even if I _was_ an athletic scholarship student because of how good I was at pitching and how poor my mother and I were that we couldn't afford tuition.

I have the sudden urge to pick up my phone, call Ryan, and tell him to go find himself a _new_ best man. That'd probably teach him a lesson. Though, I know the only thing he'd do is come here to my hotel room and pander me and find out that I'm really _not_ pissed at _him,_ because deep down, I'm truly grateful that he _always_ thinks of me and includes me in his life.

Seriously, I am lucky to have a best friend like him. That still doesn't mean I'm not _pissed_ at him for bringing Padmé to the clubhouse where he _knew_ I'd be and _knew_ I'd be unable to resist her beauty, but I'm _not_ pissed at him enough to tell him to go take his offer of me being his best man and shove it up his ass.

I'd be a fucking fool to tell him that, especially with Padmé being Dormé's maid of honor, which means we'll _both_ be there at the wedding, and she and I will walk down the aisle together. That thought gives me pause, and I swallow... _hard..._ at the image in my head of me and her walking down the aisle. No, I wouldn't pass up _any_ opportunity to see her. Especially not this one. Even if the wedding isn't until November, after the baseball season and before the holiday season. I have no idea what the bridesmaids will all be wearing, but Dormé has a flair for style, and Ryan said the wedding is going to be a formal affair. Tuxes and the whole nine yards.

But I'm sure she'll look beautiful no matter _what_ she wears. She did look drop-dead gorgeous just wearing my jersey and a pair of jeans, after all. I smirk. Oh yeah. She looked good wearing my jersey alright. I think that'll be my favorite thing to _ever_ see on her.

I grin ferally, mischievously thinking that my _favorite_ thing to see on her would be absolutely _nothing_. Just her beautiful naked body, au naturel. I'm sure it would be nothing less than a divine masterpiece. Am I drooling? I wipe my mouth just in case, then glance over at the nightstand where my phone is at.

Sighing, I pick up my phone again, unlock it with my thumbprint and pull up her contact information again, and my thumb hovers over her number. I could call her, text her, or _FaceTime_ her...

I consider again what to do. Calling would be bad enough, especially since I _still_ don't have plans other than I'd like to see her when I don't have a game. I have at least figured out _that_ much. If I see her after my next game, I'll be tired and sore like last time. I may have been able to hide it at dinner that night, but once I walked into my house, I passed right out on my living room sofa and only woke up the next morning when the sun was literally burning my eyelids through the blinds.

No, I'd prefer to have her _all_ to myself and make an evening and maybe even a _night_ of things...but nope, I'm _not_ going to push her for _that_. Something tells me that would be the wrong move with her. Hell yeah, I want to have sex with her. I'd be lying if I said otherwise, but I don't want her _just_ for sex. No, I want her for _her_.

I want her like I wanted- no _needed_ , to make it to the Majors as a kid, and once I set my eyes on the prize, there ain't no stopping me.

So, if I can't call her, then I definitely can't _FaceTime_ her. Oh, I'd love to see her beautiful face again, her twinkling eyes, her curly burnished chestnut hair, her full, pink lips, but we don't know each other well enough yet for me to just _FaceTime_ her for that reason alone.

And that brings me to option number three. I can always text her...It wouldn't be crossing any boundaries or being _too_ forward or creepy. She might even like it. I know I would.

Just as I'm about to text her, someone suddenly pounds on my door.

 _"Yo! Open up!"_

Ryan.

Stifling a sigh, I throw back the covers and stand to my feet, leaving my cellphone on the table as I walk over to the door and open it to let him in. He enters, grinning at me like a fool while holding a bottle of _Jack Daniels_ in his hands. Not that he really needed to go to the liquor store to buy whiskey when we could've gotten some sent up from the bar downstairs, but...I won't complain or point that fact out.

"What's up with you? Are you sick?" He asks, walking over and putting the bottle down on the circular table in the front of the room.

Yep. Sure am.

Sick _in_ _love_...

I don't tell him that though. "Just because I don't want to go out to a club means I'm sick?"

He gives me a pointed look, opens the bottle and grabs two small shot glasses out of the side pockets of his khaki cargo shorts, pouring a shot for me and one for himself. "Since when do _you_ turn down going to a club?" Good point. I never do. He knows this well. "That's what I thought. Alright. So, tell me. Spill it, Man. I'm not leaving till you do."

Tell you? Tell you _what?_ How I'm falling in love with a woman that I've only ever met _once?_ A woman who _you_ and Dormé set me up with?!

I don't have to say anything though. He can read me like a book. He _knows._ The fucker. " _Ahhhh-haaaa!"_ He says slowly, grinning madly, eyes dancing with mischief. "Say it ain't so, Bro! The biggest playboy in the MLB is actually _off_ _the market!_ _Holy Shit!_ I _never_ thought I'd see the day!" He doubles over laughing. Asshole.

"Fuck off," I tell him. Grabbing the glass, I gulp down the whiskey enjoying the burn at the back of my throat more than this conversation already. _Why_ does he have to " _talk_ "about things? I've never understood that about him. Can't we just drink, get drunk, and shut the fuck up? That's what guys do after all. Well, _most_ guys.

Not him, though.

He grins again, gulping down his own shot. "Can't say I blame you, Man," he says, pouring us another round. "She's hot as hell, for sure. Y'know, Dormé and I just _knew_ you two would hit it off. We've thought so for a long time actually. But, I'll be honest with you. If you _didn't_ hit it off with her, then I wasn't going to push anymore."

Shit. If only I'd said no..."Too bad I said _'yes'_ then, huh? We'd have been able to avoid this whole conversation, and I'd be fucking the brains out of some hot ass chick from the club." I roll my eyes at him. Unfortunately, I can't turn back time and make it so. And, honestly, even if I could, I wouldn't. I want her and _only_ her. Plain and simple.

Still, he doesn't need to know _that_.

"Like you _would_ if you could." He waggles his eyebrows at me, smirking, and holds his glass up. I pick up my mine, and we tap them together before rewelcoming the burn.

We plop down at the round table across from my bed, me still in just my boxers, as he pours us our third round, which we down immediately. He quietly pours round four. He doesn't say anything more yet. Instead, we just give each other a whiskey salute and drink our fourth round of _JD_ in blissful silence. As the burn hits me once more, I smack my lips together and lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes.

Man, I needed this. The whiskey, that is.

Ryan doesn't push. We both know that I'll talk when I'm ready and not a moment before. I want to know _every_ single thing there is to know about Padmé, and he's just the person to get that info from. I'd prefer to learn more about her _from_ her though, rather than from him, but he can help me out on the little things. Y'know, give me some direction, just a few tidbits to get me started.

Like, what she likes to do for fun. Knowing this can help me decide what to do for our first date. I thought about going out for a quaint dinner for two at an upscale restaurant, but I realized I don't want it to be stuffy or intimate. No need for that yet. Too much pressure in a scene like that. No, it's better if we're out _doing_ something fun.

"So," I say, holding our fifth round in front of me, staring at the amber liquid. "What does Padmé like to do for fun anyway?"

Ryan merely grins slyly at me. "Why don't you ask her yourself? You've got her number."

Gulping down my fifth shot, I gain my liquid courage. Or, I become drunk enough to not really give a damn. "We're going out on a date. I already asked her out that night, and she said yes."

He's the first person I've told about this. I've been keeping it close to my chest. First of all, I don't normally make plans in advance for a date, they just tend to happen, and second of all, I _certainly_ wasn't going to tell everyone about it and risk _the media_ getting wind of this. My life can be a bit of a media circus as it is, and the _last_ thing I want is to expose Padmé to that crap at this juncture and possibly ruin things between us before they even get a chance to really start. Nope. I wanna keep this strictly low key and under wraps for now.

He rocks back his fifth shot and chuckles at me, his grin a mile fucking wide. _"Sooo,_ you want to know what to _do_ for your first date, eh?" You gotta give him credit. He's one smart man, my best friend.

He knows me well. A little _too_ well actually.

I nod slowly. "I want to take her out and have some fun. I just don't know what _she'd_ consider fun. Going out to a restaurant, just the two of us certainly isn't that, though I do think we had fun the other night." Just shoot me already. I won't even resist. If I hadn't already drank five shots, I definitely wouldn't have said anything. This is almost humiliating, yet also isn't because it's Ryan and I know he'll always help me and have my back.

No matter what, even if he does give me shit. I can dish it right back, though, and always do.

"Hmm," he mutters, pursing his lips and pondering my request, rolling his glass around in his hands. "Well, let's see...She plays tennis and is pretty damn good at it, too. Did you know she's a former NCAA champion? Won in doubles _and_ mixed doubles. _Twice._ Her junior and senior years," he whistles and raises his eyebrows."She's got a _wicked_ serve...like 120 mph or some crazy shit like that. Dormé and I have been to watch her play in charity tourneys several times. I'm actually surprised she didn't go pro, but tennis isn't something to play on a first date. At least _you_ can't, seeing as how you don't play tennis," he says aloud, mostly to himself as he looks down at the whiskey bottle in his hand. He suddenly snaps his fingers, a delighted look on his face. "Oh, I know! How about bowling? She's part of a bowling league at her school. Every Wednesday night during the school year, she and her colleagues face off against teachers from other schools in her district. I think it'd be perfect! Be warned, she's quite good at it though. So, be prepared to lose...although, come to think of it, _you're_ pretty good at it, too. One thing's for sure, it should _definitely_ be an interesting match up."

Bowling, eh? Now, _there's_ an idea, and one I wasn't even considering. He's right, too. I _am_ pretty good at bowling. It's been quite a while since I last bowled, but the last time I did, I rolled a perfect game. _ESPN_ loved that. It was also _all_ over the local news, and even _FOX News_ picked it up, like really?! Me bowling a perfect game is _really_ newsworthy? I think not, but it certainly is good date night material.

And, _she's_ good at it, too, eh? Well, I'm always up to a challenge. This sounds like a winning idea to me, and I _do_ love to win.

I store away this information as I down another round of _Jack Daniels_. There's something else I need to know. How old is she? Obviously, she's at least 21. She'd have to be to be out of college and teaching, but how close are we in age? I decide to find out. I flick my gaze over to Ryan's smirking face and ask just that, "How old is she?"

He grins wolfishly, "She _just_ turned twenty-six. Three weeks ago, actually. Dormé and I went to her birthday party her parents threw for her...oh, and the smaller after party as well with a few other friends and her sister and brother-in-law." He cocks his head and watches me with a knowing smile. I nod my head, assimilating this info. So, she's just a _little_ bit older than me...but not _too_ much older. That's good. I actually find the idea of her being older a bit of a turn-on. If I'm truly honest, I think it's sexy as all get out.

Ryan watches me with amusement, knowing the cogwheels are spinning in my head. Finally, there's one more thing I want to know before our date, "Where's she from? Boston?"

He nods his head, "Yeah. Boston born and bred. She attended Boston University, actually." So, she's a Boston native like me. Awesome. Ryan raises his eyebrows at me and silently offers me another shot of _JD_ , which I accept with a nod and then continue chatting with him, as he pours himself another shot. What do we each say? The hell if I know, the rest of the conversation kinda goes by in a blur of slurred speech. I smirk.

I may be a _wee_ bit drunk now. And, it's all _his_ fault, everything is.

Padmé, my sad state of affairs that I currently find myself in, and my _totally_ drunken state.

Still, I seriously wouldn't have it any other way, and I _seriously_ love this dude like a brother. There's a reason why we're best friends, and that is because he just _gets_ me, and not many people do. Just give me a bottle of _Jack Daniels,_ and he has me eating from the palm of his hand, spilling out my guts when I normally wouldn't.

Smart man.

After a while, and a few more shots that _definitely_ have me _more_ than a little wobbly on my feet, he rises from his chair, equally wobbly, and gives me a salute with the empty whisky bottle. "I'll see you tomorrow, Browski!" He says, grinning like the crazy ass fool he is. "Now, get your ass over to your bed and call your girl! You got plans to make!"

With that, he sways away, only taking a few steps towards the door before he falls face first down onto the carpeted floor, and I'm sure I hear him snoring. I snort, the nut.

I check on him and he's fine, just drunk like I am. I turn him over, grab his arm, hoist him over my shoulder, and lift him up onto the bed and toss him on the other side. My bed is _more_ than big enough for the both of us to pass out on. I'm not about to let him sleep on the floor after tonight.

 _Though maybe I should_ , a certain part of my brain chimes in. _Naaa, that wouldn't be right. He wouldn't do that to me._

Moving over to the other side of the bed, I plop myself down, leaning back against my pillows again, and grab my cell phone, unlocking it with my thumb print. Padmé's contact info pops back up, and I suddenly feel sober as I look at it. There's no way in hell that I _actually_ am sober, not after splitting half of a full bottle of _JD,_ but the bowling idea is good and fresh in my mind, and I want to take her out. In fact, as I mull over Ryan's revelations about her, as well as my own feelings, I have an epiphany of sorts. I grin a predatory smile. I've got a _new_ game plan in mind. I'm going after her _exclusively_ and then _never_ letting her go. Yep. My mind's made up. She's _mine_...She just doesn't know it yet, but she'll soon figure it out.

Am I off the market, like Ryan said? Hell, yeah. And, instead of freaking out over it, I feel an internal _thrill_ to admit it.

The time is only a little after nine o'clock, maybe a little late, but I'm sure she's up. She _has_ to be! I want to hear her voice again, dammit! Pressing her number, I call her and bring my phone up to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times, and then she answers with that beautiful, melodic, angelic voice of hers. _"Hello? Anakin?"_

And I'm _completely_ a goner.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading Chapter Two! I hope you enjoyed it!

I thought this would be a good chapter to show the inner workings of his mind and the developing feelings he has for the woman who stole his heart at first glance. How does a player, such as _he_ go from being a player to a man completely ready to be in a committed relationship? Well, come on, we're talking about _Padmé_ here, why wouldn't he want her? Also what do you think of Ryan?

Next chapter will be their first real date! I hope you're excited about it, I know I am!

Thanks again for reading! Please follow, favorite and review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Game Plan: Chapter 3**

* * *

Finally.

It's here.

It's _time_.

Date night!

Hmm, I have to admit. It's _weird_ just thinking of it. I mean, granted, it's practically _all_ I have been thinking about since I asked her out, but still...this is _me_ we're talking about here. And, this is completely outside the box for me.

I've never really went on a _real_ date before. Ok, not counting Prom in high school, which _was_ kinda a date, I guess, but other than _that,_ I haven't been on what you could call a ' _date'_ date. The only kind of _dating_ I've ever done are of the casual hookups variety when I'm out with the guys at a night club or out at a bar and end up leaving with a woman to go back to her place and have some fun of the _intimate_ variety.

Plain and simple, and I wouldn't even call any of those _dates,_ they were just that hookups. That's it.

They were never anything special, and definitely no one I'd ever want to see again. I wouldn't even remember their faces or names when I left them in a sated satisfied haze the next morning. It was _all_ about physical release. Mine and hers.

Call me what you will, but that's just the way I rolled, and they knew the score before we left.

I've generally just been the one and done kinda guy, not just because I've never really met anyone interesting before...Although, now that I think about it, I really _haven't_ met a woman that caught and held my interest before now...It was always just physical...with _all_ of them...but anyway, also because I'm only twenty-four and have a very demanding job. It wouldn't be right for me to become involved in a serious relationship and be gone _most_ of the time during the MLB season, which is _more_ than _half_ the year, including spring training.

That's only an excuse though, I admit it. There are _plenty_ of MLB players that are happily married, engaged, or involved in a relationship. I mean, look at Ryan. He's the perfect example.

Truth is, I've just never really _clicked_ with anyone before like I did with Padmé that night. Everything about her just drew me in like a moth to a flame, and I wanted _more_. I can't really explain what I _feel_ for her, maybe it really _is_ love. All that I know for sure is that she interests me in a way that _no_ woman ever has before, and I want to see where this _thing_ goes.

If tonight goes well and she _wants_ to see me again (which I really _hope_ she does), I'd be thrilled. _More_ than thrilled, actually.

I'd be over the fucking moon.

I'm jumping the gun though, aren't I?

A few nights ago, the night Ryan brought whiskey to my hotel room in NYC and made a drunken fool of me, I'd already made the decision to make Padmé _mine_.

I may have been absolutely drunk after all that _Jack Daniels_ , no doubt about that, but that decision was one that I was thinking of _before_ Ryan even came by.

That decision is also one that I'm going to stand by.

I've never thought much about my future outside of baseball, that's always been my focus, but with Padmé...I may just want it _all_.

I may just _want_ what Ryan and Dormé have. As crazy as that sounds, given _who_ I am. I'm the most _renowned_ playboy in the MLB after all, and here I am seriously considering taking myself off the market for a woman I've only ever met _once_ and who I am going out with on our _very_ first date tonight.

Ryan always told me, though, that when he saw Dormé for the very first time, he just felt this weird connection with her, like an electrical current sizzled between them, and he said he just _knew_ that she was _'The One'_ for him. When I saw Padmé for the very first time in the locker room, I felt the same exact way. That sizzle, like an electrical current passing between us when our eyes met and locked for the first time.

I never understood what he meant by that feeling before now, but when it happened with me and Padmé, I understood then.

And, if _he_ can manage to fall in love and make it work, seeing as how he was as big a playboy as I was, then why can't I? I'm not going to deny feeling a bit envious of his and Dormé's relationship. They're perfect for one another, and sure, they may make me want to throw up sometimes with how much they _disgustingly_ love one another, but losing my best friend, who used to always be my wingman when hitting up the clubs and bars scoping out the women, and then seeing how totally happy - and _content_ \- he was being in an exclusive relationship makes me want _that,_ too.

I've just never met the one woman who ever made me want _that_ before, at least not until Padmé.

If we _do_ end up having a blast tonight and want to see each other again, she'll have to know what she's signing herself up for with me. I'm not going to ask her to wait around for me while I'm out on the road. She deserves to be happy, and for the first time in my life, I'm not thinking of myself here.

I'm thinking of _her_.

I want _her_ to be happy, and if _I_ make her happy, then you can bet your ass that I'll do _everything_ I can to make it work. Just because I've never been the dating or the relationship kind of guy before, doesn't mean I can't learn _how_ to be.

If it means having _her_ in my life, there's very little I won't do to make her _mine_ in every way, shape, and form possible.

Just like I'll be _hers_ in every way, shape, and form.

I'm talking _total_ exclusivity here. A real first for me.

This is something that I'll leave in Padmé's hands, though.

And again, I'm jumping the fucking gun. First things first.

Maybe I should wait until _after_ tonight's date before thinking about the future? After all, tonight could be a _total_ disaster and what then? Then, I'd be left with all of these ideas for _our_ future, and they'd be totally useless, because the woman I wanted to share them with wouldn't be mine. I'd make a complete fool of myself, and I'm _not_ about to do that. I've just never felt _this_ strongly before about anyone and in a way...I'm kind of afraid of screwing it up. I _want_ this to work. I'm just so _new_ at this that I'm _totally_ out of my element here, and unlike baseball, I don't really know the rules of the game.

One thing I've always been good at, though, is learning on the fly, adapting to changing circumstances, and making the best of it. I've been under more pressure before than this, and if I could adapt and learn then, I could definitely do the same now.

No, my mind's made up.

I'm going to make her _mine_ \- totally, completely, _exclusively -_ even if I have to become a sap to do it.

Why?

Because to _me_ , _she's_ worth it.

* * *

I check my pockets again, and I've got everything I need, including a condom or two, just in case it gets that far. I highly doubt it; after all, she's really _not_ that type of girl, but a guy can hope...

Right?

I grin to myself as I grab my car keys off the key rack in the kitchen, grab my light blue, hooded, zip-up sweatshirt and throw it on and zip it part way up, then take my hat off the coat rack by the back kitchen door and put it on. I'm trying to go incognito tonight, just another guy out on a date with his girl. Which is _why_ I'm just wearing dark blue jeans, a dark blue polo shirt with my plain light blue hoodie over it, black _Nike_ sneakers, and my black _Under Armour_ hat.

Nobody should even suspect I'm Anakin Skywalker- starting pitcher for the _Boston Red Sox._ To that end, I'm even leaving my _Lamborghini_ home tonight. I'm taking out my charcoal gray _Jeep Grand Cherokee_ instead, which is a car that I normally only drive when I'm going to visit my mom and step-family out on their farm. But, for tonight, it'll only help me blend in to the crowd, and that is _precisely_ what I'm going to try and do. I don't want Padmé to get upset by everyone looking at us and snapping photos of us out on our first date. That alone could be enough for her to not want to see me again. I mean, she seemed a bit uncomfortable that night at the restaurant with all the attention I was getting, and I can't really blame her.

Not that I don't love the fans, I _do_...especially the little kids, but when I'm not out on that mound, and I'm out running errands or hanging with my family or friends, I don't necessarily like all the attention all the time either. Everyone deserves to have their privacy, after all.

Right?

I'm a baseball player; playing baseball is what I'm good at.

No, it's what I'm _great_ at.

But, that's _all_ I am.

A baseball player.

And, that's _all_ the people have a right to know about me. They _don't_ need to be involved in my personal business.

My personal life is just that- _personal,_ and I _never_ talk to the press about that (though the media _loves_ to speculate about my love life, for sure), it's simply none of their damn business, and my contract only stipulates that I need to talk to the press about my game- on the field, not _off._

Which means if _I_ want to bring my personal life into things, I can, but I'm not required to. I rarely have before, why would I want to now?

Heading out to my four car garage, I shake my head as I take my seat behind the steering wheel and push the start button. My _Jeep_ starts up, and I hit the garage door opener on the sun visor and pull out of my garage, then push the button again to close the garage door behind me. At the end of my paved driveway, I have a large black wrought iron gate attached to a large gray stone fence that encloses my entire property to keep out any uninvited guests. I press the gate remote opener button to open it, drive through, and then press the button again to close it once I'm out on the city streets and pulling away from my beautiful mansion.

It's a house I wasn't sure of buying at first, but my mom and stepdad both liked it, so I bought it. I've never owned a house before, but it's fifteen minutes away from _Fenway Park,_ and I fell in love with the potential I saw in it.

And by potential, I mean my _future_ in it; not that it needs any work done on it, because it doesn't. It's brand spanking new and cost me over five million dollars to purchase. Despite me hardly being home most of the time because of all our away games during the season, it is _definitely_ a nice place to crash when I _am_ home. It's sparsely decorated right now. What little furnishings I have purchased, my mom helped me pick out, but for now, I've got everything a man could possibly need inside.

Well, except a woman.

 _And, that's what tonight's date is all about_ , I remind myself. A wolfish grin on my lips, I press down on the accelerator, pull up Padmé's address on _Google Maps_ , and head off in the direction of her apartment.

I can't wait to get there.

Maneuvering through traffic, I hum to the music I've got jamming while I drive. Padmé lives in the North End of Boston, just off of Fleet Street. I live in an exclusive neighborhood in Brookline. So, it's a _little_ bit of a drive to get to her place. Maybe about thirty-five minutes with light traffic, which thankfully is the case this evening. I told her I'd pick her up at 6:45 and to have her bowling shoes ready.

Turns out Ryan's suggestion was a hit. She enthusiastically agreed to bowling when I called her that night to suggest it. I can't help but grin, thinking about that conversation. We ended up talking for almost forty-five minutes that night, which in and of itself is amazing. Always before when I was with a woman, it tended to be all _action_ and very little talk, if you catch my drift, and I don't consider moans and groans _talking_. And, our conversation was enjoyable. Turns out, she and I have a similar sense of humor and like a lot of the same things apparently. Despite Ryan's rather _loud_ snoring filling my room, not to mention me being _totally_ drunk from all that _JD,_ I was surprised at how alert and _focused_ I was on our conversation. And, that I still remember it, to be honest. _Every_ single word.

I can't get over how _soothing_ her voice is to me. After talking to her and settling on our plans, I slept _great_ that night and woke feeling a thrill of delight in my gut...in spite of the _wicked_ ass hangover I had the next morning. Fuck, hangovers are the worst.

But, I can't deny Ryan - and his bottle of _Jack_ \- weren't worth it. They were. If he hadn't showed up, shot glasses and booze in hand, I doubt we'd be going out bowling tonight. Because, like I said, this dating stuff is all new to me, and I was truly _stumped_ on what to actually _do_ on a date until Ryan's suggestion. Of course, when Ryan woke up from his own _JD_ induced stupor the next morning, being the asshole he sometimes is, he couldn't help ribbing me again about Padmé, and me being _"off the market."_ He's just lucky I was in such a good mood that morning, despite the hangover; otherwise, I'd have probably decked him.

Before I know it, I'm pulling up outside Padmé's apartment building. It's your basic older red brick apartment building, typical of this area of Boston. I find a parking spot along the street, turn off the engine, and then grab my phone. I better let her know I'm here. Pulling up her contact info, I quickly send her a text: **Hey, I'm here. Ready? :)**

I get the three flashing dots almost instantly, along with her reply: **_Great! Be down in 2!_**

Now that the moment of actually seeing her again face to face is upon me, I have sudden butterflies in my belly, doing dive-bombing exercises from the feel of it. Man, I _need_ to calm the fuck down, but it's like I can't for some reason. I suddenly realize my palms are sweating, which almost _never_ happens to me, and I rub my hands across the tops of my thighs to dry them. Exhaling forcefully, I open my door and hop out of my _Jeep_ to wait for her to appear. I cross the street and stand outside her building on the sidewalk, shifting my feet nervously, hands in the front pockets of my jeans. Yeah, I'm nervous. I mean, what man _wouldn't_ be in my shoes right here, right now?

At that moment, I hear the door opening, and I turn to look...and all the breath leaves my lungs in one silent _whoosh._ I can feel my eyes widen and my jaw go slack. I'm stunned speechless. Padmé steps out the door, shutting it behind her, and turns to walk toward me, a big grin on her beautiful face. I can't fucking move. Wait...what was that noise? Did I just _moan?_ Fuck, I hope she didn't hear that. But, I can't help it! All I can do is just stare at her. She's dressed casually, yeah, but she's _gorgeous._ My eyes sweep her petite frame from head to toe, and I have to _force_ myself not to get a semi here, because I'm starting to get a little bit _uncomfortable_ in my pants. Shifting my weight again to try to ease my _discomfort,_ I grin widely at her approach. I really am beyond happy to see her.

And she _does_ look amazing.

She's wearing dark straight leg jeans, an untucked, loose, plain pink t-shirt, a dark denim jacket, with backless slip-on light blue _Sketchers_ tennis shoes with white socks, and she has a black wallet purse draped from her right shoulder across her chest, resting on her left hip. Her beautiful chestnut hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, leaving just her bangs draped across her forehead. She has some small silver hoop earrings in her ears...and just like when I met her, she's not wearing any makeup. But, again, she doesn't need it. God, she looks un- _fucking_ -believable! I'd love nothing better than to haul her into my arms and kiss her senseless, but...no, I show restraint and simply smile, lifting a hand to wave at her. _Nice and easy here, Skywalker. Don't rush it!_ I think to myself, as she stops right in front of me.

"Hi, Anakin! Ready?"

"You bet! Are you ready to lose?" I ask with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes and lifts an eyebrow at me in a silent challenge, "I play to win, Anakin."

She's _feisty!_ And, I love it. I feel my grin widen, and I answer with a challenge of my own, "So do I. Game on, Padmé?"

She nods her head, "Yeah. Game _on_." I bark out laughing and reach out to take her hand in mine, twining our fingers together. I've never really held hands with a girl or woman before like this, and I'm more than digging it. We turn and walk across the street toward my _Jeep,_ which she openly admires, as I escort her round the front to the passenger side, and behaving like a gentleman, I open the door for her to climb in. "Nice _Jeep._ I thought you'd bring your other car, the one you drove to dinner that night."

I shut her door and quickly jog back round to the driver's side, open the door, and climb in, hook up my seat belt as she hooks in hers, then start up the engine. "Thanks. Naaa, that car is more noticeable than this one. I kinda wanted to go incognito tonight, if you know what I mean. My other car is a brand spanking new _Lamborghini_ , an Italian made sports car, and it's well known I drive it around this city. Not many people know I own _this_ vehicle, though, and as much as possible, I want it to be just you and me tonight. Hopefully, we can enjoy our evening without being hounded by other people." I glance over at her and smile, as I put the car in gear and begin to move forward down the street.

She nods her head in understanding, "I can understand that, and I appreciate the effort, Anakin. I guess it can get kinda old really quick, always having people following you around with cameras and pestering you for autographs, huh?" She tilts her head to look at me, a look of... _sympathy_ maybe?...on her face.

I glance over at her before turning my attention back to the road. "Yeah, it _can_ be at times. I'm used to it now, of course, and I tend to ignore the paparazzi. As long as they stay out of my face, don't get in my way, and keep out of my personal business, I'm cool with it for the most part. As for the fans, I don't usually mind them coming up and asking for autographs most of the time, I almost always have a _Sharpie_ with me, but...tonight, with you, I don't want to be disturbed, and I hope we won't be."

I flick my gaze back to her only to see her blushing madly. It's cute, and there goes that _feeling_ in my pants again. Dammit! If this keeps up, it's going to be one helluva long night for me. Shifting my hips in my seat, I ask, "Wanna listen to some music?" I arch my eyebrows questioningly. She shakes her head no.

"No, thanks. I'd rather just talk and watch the scenery. Where are we going anyway?"

I smile, "A really cool place Ryan and I have been to before. It's called _Drake's Bowling Billiards._ It's over in Somerville, so it's not far from here. It's not traditional bowling, though. It's candlepin bowling. Ever tried that before?"

She shakes her head no, "No, I haven't, but it sounds like fun."

"Oh, it _is_. You use these small handheld balls...They look almost like a croquet ball in a way...Anyway, it's a small place...They've only got like ten lanes, but they have the most _delicious_ pizza, and it's actually handmade from scratch, baked right there in a real wood-fired oven. They've also got a great beer selection at the bar, as well as billiards, if you feel up to playing a round or two of pool tonight." I glance over at her again with this _huge_ grin on my face. Now that we're together and on our way, I am _so_ pumped up about tonight.

"Oh, I enjoy playing pool. My dad has a pool table at home. He taught me and my older sister, Sola, how to play," she smiles at me and shrugs her shoulders.

"Great! So, maybe we'll have to rack 'em up then." I tell her with a grin, hoping she'll be up to the challenge.

Her wicked grin tells me she is. Good.

"Oh, _definitely!_ After I whip your butt bowling, of course."

She grins a mile wide and quirks an eyebrow at me, clearly up for this endeavor. I can't help the corresponding smirk I shoot her way, "We shall see about that, Padmé. But don't underestimate my... _skills."_ I waggle my eyebrows at her, and she bursts out in a fit of giggles, and I can't help laughing right along with her. Her laughter is like music to my ears, and we continue to chuckle and chat the rest of the way to _Drake's._

Pulling up outside the bowling alley, I am pleased to note that there aren't that many cars. This is both surprising, because this place is _very_ popular, but also _nice_ to see, because it, _hopefully_ , increases our chances of having some privacy on our date. I park the car, cut the engine, and climb out to walk around and open her door for her, offering her my hand to help her out of the car. I press the button, the lights flicker and the car beeps, signaling it's locked, then I take her hand in mine, and we walk to the front door. I open the door for her, and wave her in first, before following.

Just as I suspected, it's not that busy, which is great. We head over to the counter, and quickly, we are set up with bowling shoes and scorecards and then told to head for lane number nine. Thankfully, neither lane ten or eight have anyone on them. So, we'll have the area all to ourselves, at least for now. We get to our lane, and sit down to change out our shoes. Padmé is looking all around with undisguised interest. She's also sniffing the air deeply, and I smile. "You hungry?" I ask. I gotta admit, the smells wafting this way from the wood-fired oven in the pizzeria are making my own mouth water.

She nods her head vigorously, "Yeah. I'm kinda hungry."

I nod in kind, "Me, too. Let's go order a pizza. Want a beer?" We head over to the pizzeria to place our order, and while we walk, she considers my question.

"Hmm...No, I think tonight I'd rather just have a _Coke,_ if that's okay?"

I nod my head, "Sure. Whatever you want." We make our way to the counter, and the waitress behind the counter smiles and asks what we'd like to order. We look up at the menu, and I turn to Padmé and ask what type of pizza she'd like. "Order whatever you want, Padmé. I'm good with anything."

She tilts her head and purses her lips as she reads through the menu.

"How about a large deluxe pizza with hamburger, extra mushrooms, peppers, black olives, and extra cheese, but no onions?"

 _No onions, eh?_ I smirk to myself. I can't help but _hope_ that request bodes well for some _lip lock_ action later, at the very least. I'm also suddenly glad I brought my peppermint breath mints with me tonight, too.

Anyway, the pizza sounds good, and I quickly agree, giving our food order to the waitress, before I order a glass of _S_ _amuel Adams_ on tap for myself and a large _Coke_ for Padmé, then pay for our food and drinks. The waitress hands Padmé her drink, and then we head over to the bar and plop down on a couple of stools while we wait for our pizza. The bartender quickly comes over with my glass of beer, and we spend the next ten minutes just chatting and enjoying being in each other's company before our pizza is ready. And, I am thrilled that we're getting along better than I'd ever _hoped_ we would. Honestly, I could sit and listen to her speak all night, and once again, I am amazed at how much I am enjoying _just_ talking with her.

This really _is_ a first for me in _every_ way imaginable.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because for once in my life, my focus isn't _just_ sex here. Frankly, I don't foresee getting laid tonight, and I'm actually totally ok with that. As I said before, she's _not_ that kinda girl, and I'm simply enjoying being in her very presence, the entire package that _is_ Padmé.

At that moment, her name is called out, signaling our pizza order is ready. Even though I paid for our food and drinks (cash only, no card transactions), we put the order under _her_ name to try to avoid unwanted attention. I ask Padmé to grab my drink for me, which she does, and I walk over and grab our pizza. It's in a cardboard box to keep it warm, and they provided us with some sturdy paper plates and plenty of napkins. With everything in hand, we walk back to our lane.

Each lane has a small table behind the score table in the middle of the seating, back behind the lane itself, and we put our food and drinks there. Opening the box, we each grab a slice of pizza, and Padmé gives me a huge smile, "This smells _fantastic!"_ before she takes a bite and chews. I simply nod my head, chewing my own bite. Her eyes close, and this tiny smile of sheer delight spreads on her lips as she continues to chew, then swallows, and I have this sudden urge to lean over and kiss her - _hard_ and _deep_. I cover this by taking another big bite of pizza. It really _is_ super great pizza. Baking it in a wood-fired oven makes all the difference in the taste, if you ask me.

After we each down three slices of pizza and a few sips of our beverages, we get going on our game. Acting the gentleman, I let her go first, after explaining that the rules of candlepin bowling are essentially the same as regular bowling. She nods in understanding then she takes off her purse and jacket, setting them in the chair next to me. I man the scorecard, as she steps up to throw her first ball.

And, I suddenly feel like a lecherous pig, because my eyes are _totally_ glued to her ass. Her jeans fit her perfectly, and their snug fit leaves very _little_ to my over-active imagination. She's got a beautifully shaped pert ass...round and firm, obviously from all that tennis playing and bowling she does. I can't help the...twitching of my dick as I watch her. God, I _hope_ I don't start drooling here. That'd be embarrassing.

But, then again, so would standing up in a bowling alley with a hard-on.

 _Better get control of your 'baser urges,' Skywalker!_ Shit, no kidding.

Her first roll knocks down seven pins, leaving three left standing. As I watch her grab another ball; however, I can't help but notice how her t-shirt accentuates her breasts, and I swallow hard, instantly imagining myself pulling _off_ that pink t-shirt _and_ the bra underneath... _Whoa! Calm down, dude!..._ I shake my head to clear it, and when she turns back around to line up to throw her next ball, I surreptitiously reach my left hand down and grab my crotch and squeeze once... _hard._

 _Pardon the pun, but keep your mind out of the gutter, Skywalker._

Right. Focus on our game and just enjoy spending _time_ with her.

Mentally, I kick myself for letting my thoughts wander where they really _shouldn't_ tonight, but dammit, I'm not _blind_ here, and I can't deny my almost overwhelming attraction to her...in every way, shape, and _form._ I jolt out of my internal dialogue when she squeals and throws her hands up in the air, turning to me with a huge grin on her face.

She got a spare. Nice. She's off to a good start. I smile, "Good one, Padmé!" before I mark the scorecard and then stand up to take my turn. She sits in my chair and grabs the pencil to mark my score. I grab a ball, line up, and move forward and roll... _Wham!..._ Pins seemingly erupt, flying in every direction, and I start laughing and clapping my hands. A perfect strike! Fuck, yeah!

I look over at Padmé, and she's grinning and nodding her head, "Nice strike, Anakin."

Practically preening, I just grin and plop down in the chair she just vacated, ready to mark down her next score.

The night wears on, and we get more and more competitive, hurling playful smack downs, along with some _heated_ double entendre, as one game turns into _three (_ She wins one; me, two) before we decide we've had enough bowling for one evening. It _was_ fun. Loads of it, actually. Ryan was right. She really _is_ very good at bowling, but more than that, I enjoyed it particularly because she presents me with a challenge unlike any other woman before ever has, and she gives _just_ as good as she gets. She's bright, quick witted, and brilliantly intelligent with a razor sharp mind.

I truly appreciate and admire that about her. After all, _Barbie dolls_ aren't exactly known for their _brains,_ are they? And, as shocking as it may sound for _me_ to say this, given _my_ reputation, I need more from a woman than her just being good in bed. Sex isn't _all_ I care about.

Well, at least not _anymore,_ I'm realizing.

I need a woman who can keep up with me in _every_ way...Physically _and_ mentally. I may not have gone to college, true, but I had a 4.0 GPA when I graduated high school, and if I _hadn't_ been drafted into baseball immediately after graduation, I _would've_ gone to college on one of the full athletic scholarships I'd been offered to study mechanical engineering. I may have been gifted and skilled enough to enter professional sports, yeah, but my mother raised me to _never_ neglect my mind and to always give my best effort to my schoolwork and in keeping my mental game _just_ as sharp as my baseball game.

I listened to her and did just that, and my grades _always_ reflected that.

So, it's quite refreshing to be able to discuss various topics intellectually with a woman whose mind is _just_ as sharp as mine is. Padmé tells me she was the valedictorian of her graduating class in high school, and she was offered a dual scholarship for academics plus athletics (for tennis, it turns out) to attend _Boston University._ She was initially going in to study Pre-law (her father, Ruwee, is a lawyer, like his father and grandfather before him), but changed to an Education major her sophomore year, and she really seems to have found her niche. She gushes enthusiastically about teaching, her students, and she doesn't even complain about the long hours on her feet all day or about often having to bring her work home with her at night, doing things like grading papers and preparing lesson plans. I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. She really does _care_ about each of her students, and her desire to help each of them succeed as much as she can is genuine.

After all the plastic, artificial women I've been with in the past, the models and actresses who are _all_ about their public _facade,_ Padmé truly _is_ like a breath of genuine fresh air to me. And, I feel myself being drawn to her more and more the longer the night goes on.

 _This bodes well for my new_ _game plan,_ I can't help but think with an internal smile, as we gather up our trash from our meal (we ended up eating the _whole_ pizza) and change back into our own shoes, before dumping our trash and heading up to the counter to pay for our three games. We turn in our shoes, and I pay for our bowling, then I glance at the clock. It's 9:15. I don't want to take her home yet. I'm enjoying our time together too much. So, I smile and ask if she'd like to go shoot some pool. Her eyes light up immediately, and she nods her head affirmatively. I grin wolfishly, and ask about playing some pool. We are handed a carton of billiard balls by the clerk, who motions to the holding rack by the counter for all the pool sticks. We each pick out a stick we feel comfortable with, then we make our way to the billiards area, selecting the far back pool table.

It may be a little more crowded now than it was earlier, but there's five pool tables, and only two others are occupied at the front of the room. Nobody pays us any mind as we make our way to the back table. Good.

This should be fun, too.

I set the balls down on the table and ask over my shoulder with a smirk, "So, you've played pool before. You any good at it?"

She sets her jacket and purse down on the wooden bench next to our table and then smiles at me like a Cheshire cat, "Oh, _yeah._ My parents have a pool table at home, downstairs in the basement. They've made it into kind of a huge rec room for the family. They've got a _Wii_ down there and an _Xbox_ with a huge flat screen TV, and they also have an air hockey table and even a ping-pong table, too. Sola, my older sister, and I grew up playing pool with Dad down there."

I purse my lips and nod appreciatively, "Sweet. I should do something like that at my house. Maybe make a 'man cave' out of one of the back rooms or something like that."

"Where do you live anyway?"

I give her my address. She doesn't look familiar with my exact street, so I tell her, "It's in Brookline." Ahhhh, _that_ name she recognizes. I can tell instantly by the raised eyebrows, slightly wide eyes, and the silent ' _wow'_ she mouths.

"That...that's impressive. Most impressive, Anakin. Good for you...I-I mean, that's just a _super_ nice area, and it's great that you can afford to live there. I don't mean any offense, of course," she blushes and stutters, looking down at the floor. Obviously, she remembers our little tiff from the restaurant the night we met, and she doesn't want to repeat that again.

Which is really thoughtful and sweet of her. So, I rush to reassure her.

"It's fine, Padmé. I know what you meant, and thanks. It's a huge ass house, really...At present, it's far too much for just _me,_ and to be honest, it's barely furnished, but I needed to set down some roots, and my parents really liked it. So, I bought it."

She assimilates this information silently, as I grab the triangle and rack up the balls.

"Do your parents live with you?" she asks, leaning her hip against the table and holding her stick upright against her chest.

I shake my head, "No. My mother was actually a single parent until I was nine. I never knew my father. He split when Mom found out she was pregnant with me. Anyway, then she married Cliegg Lars, a farmer, and we moved out of Boston itself to the Lars' farm about an hour's drive northwest of the city. They've got a nice little farm up there, and they're happy where they're at. I'm glad we moved, though, because the baseball programs were excellent in the school system there, and I can't say that I would've made it to the majors if we'd stayed where we were in Boston."

She's nodding her head again, as I position the balls just right on the round dot on the green felt of the table. Smiling at her, I motion to the table, "Ladies first, Padmé."

She smiles again, and grabs the chalk, brushing it against the end of her pool stick, before moving to the end of the table and the white breaking ball. She flicks her gaze to mine, "Let's play Eight Ball. I call solids. You're stripes. Sound good?"

I smirk, "Absolutely. Have at it." I wave my hand again toward the table.

She smiles and leans over the table and sets up her shot...and _Fuck me!_ I can't help but stare at her ass, and immediately, I feel a semi forming in my pants. _Again!_

 _Shit!_ I think, as I try to shift my footing again to ease my sudden _discomfort._ Dammit, suddenly playing pool doesn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

Hey, I may admire her greatly, no question about it, but I'm _still_ a young, hot blooded, male here! I'm talking testosterone loaded to the max, and I'm _not_ going to look elsewhere when the most beautiful woman I've _ever_ seen keeps bending over in front of me!

My attention is drawn (rather reluctantly, I must say) from her _divine_ body habitus to the table, as she makes her breaking shot, and damn, if it's not a good one! With a loud _smack!_ balls scatter across the table, and she actually manages to sink _two_ of the solid balls on the break! I turn to stare at her with my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide.

What is she? A pool hustler? I nod my head and offer up a low whistle of appreciation, "Sweet shot, Padmé."

She just grins ferally, _winks_ at me...and goes on the attack. _Fuck!_ Forget the semi. Just with that one wink, it's full blown now, and I am _throbbing_ in the confines of my jeans. I move round the perimeter of the table to the _darker_ side of our area, in the hopes she won't notice my...uh, _problem._

Thankfully, she is one hundred percent focused on the game. _Good,_ I can't help but think with a sigh. She considers each shot carefully, lines up each move perfectly, and manages to sink _three_ more of her balls before _I_ even get to make _my_ first shot! I'm impressed. _More_ than impressed.

And, it gets harder and harder to hold in my groans _and_ to keep the rather lustful images in my head at bay each time she bends over!

Oh, yeah. No fucking doubts about it. I _will_ make this woman _mine._

 _It's a done deal,_ I can't help but smirk to myself, _she_ _just doesn't know it yet._

But, I am going to make _damn_ sure she does before not too much longer.

Smiling wolfishly myself, I launch my own offensive, knocking in four of my own balls in a row before missing my first shot.

We go back and forth, making shot after shot, before she sinks the eight ball and wins the game. I groan and throw my head back and stare at the ceiling before looking at her and shaking my head.

She turns to look at me with a smirk and raises her eyebrows, "What was it I said earlier about whooping your butt, Skywalker?"

I narrow my eyes at her, "Ahhh... _that_ was at bowling, but do I detect a hint of _challenge_ there, Naberrie?" I dearly hope it _is._

She steps closer and looks up at me with her _beautiful_ brown eyes, and I feel my pulse quicken instantly, that deepening desire I feel for her burning in my gut, "Yeah. Think you can handle the heat, Sport?"

"Oh, hell _yeah_. Bring it _on._ Rack 'em up, Naberrie."

She laughs and racks up the balls for round two, and this time, _I_ make the break.

And, end up winning the game.

By this point, it's after ten, and I notice she's starting to yawn, though she's covering it with her hand, and as _great_ as this date has been, we both agree it's time to head home. We gather up all the balls, our sticks, her jacket and purse, and we go back to the counter, pay for our pool games, and then I take her hand and we walk back out to my _Jeep._ I unlock the car, hold her door for her and help her inside before going around and getting in the driver's seat. I start up the car, back out, and we head off back to her apartment. On the drive there, we decide to go through a _McDonald's_ drive-thru and grab a couple of large _Cokes,_ as we're both rather thirsty, before getting back on the road to her place.

In what feels like no time at all, we're pulling up outside her building. I park, turn off the lights and engine, and I turn to look at her. She's smiling softly at me, and she looks _so_ incredibly beautiful. I want to kiss her so badly, but I don't want to push my luck either. I think we had an awesome time tonight, and for a first date, _my first date,_ I don't think it could've gone any better. She must agree, because she says, "Thank you for a _wonderful_ evening, Anakin. I really had a _great_ time."

 _Fuck yeah!_

 _Just the words I wanted to hear,_ I think to myself. "Yeah, I had a blast, too. Would you like to go out with me again, Padmé?" On the surface, I hope I sound calm, cool, collected here, but inside, I'm a mess, and I can't help but think, _Please say yes!, Please say yes!, Please say yes!..._ Because, _finally_ , I have found a woman...no, _the one woman,_ that absorbs my total focus and interest, that I _want_ in my life. And, for more than just one night.

I'm seriously starting to think _forever_ here. After just one date that may sound crazy, but again, this is _me_ , remember? The man _E! News_ swore would _never_ settle down. Well, won't they be in for a shock.

Because, no question about it, I am _definitely_ off the market now.

I want Padmé and no one else.

I just hope _she_ wants _me,_ despite my womanizing reputation.

"Sure, Anakin. I'd love, too." With just those five little words, my belly does that flip-flop thing, and I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline in my system, and before I realize it, I'm leaning over toward her, reach out with my right hand and slide it gently round the back of her neck, and I pull her to me, sealing our lips together, and...

 _FUCK ME, MAN!_

Kissing Padmé is both unlike _anything_ else I've ever done before, and at the same time, the most _incredible_ sensation I've _ever_ felt! She tastes just as divine and fresh and lush as I knew she would. Honestly, I've _never_ experienced a kiss like this one. _Bar none._

And, she must feel the same way, because she eagerly responds to my kiss, opening her mouth to allow me to slide my tongue inside, and _holy_ _shit!_ I think I see stars! The sensation of her warm tongue gliding against and around my own is the _sexiest_ sensation I could possibly imagine in a kiss.

Hell, I'm getting worked up faster than my fastest fast ball here! Seriously, until this moment, I never knew _kissing_ alone could get me _this_ hard! And, no way can I stop the moan of longing that I hear escape from deep in my throat. She reaches up and fists her right hand into the blonde curls at the nape of my neck and increases the pressure of the kiss. _Oh, Fuck_...Kissing her feels _so_ damn good!

And it feels so damn right.

I feel sweat break out on my forehead, as we continue molding our mouths together, kiss after kiss after kiss. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my dick is _throbbing_ in my jeans. Dammit! I'm going to have to take care of this _issue_ when I get home, or I'll _never_ get to sleep tonight.

Finally, our lips part, and we're both breathing heavy. Her eyes are sparkling despite the dimness of the light, and I can tell her face is flushed a lovely pink color, and her chest is heaving. I glance down briefly, and sure enough, I notice the outline of her hard nipples against the fabric of her t-shirt. Excellent. _She_ wants _me_ just as much as _I_ want _her._

"I guess I better get in," she says, her voice sounding regretful, like she can't bear to leave. This excites me further.

"Yeah, guess so," I say then clear my throat, "So, I'll call you and set up plans for another date then?"

I can't help the intensity of my stare as I gaze in her eyes. I want this...want _her_...so badly.

She nods her head eagerly, "Yeah, that'd be great!"

"Great. So, I'll call you, but uh, do you mind if I text you, too?"

She giggles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, making me smile, "Sure, Anakin! Text me anytime."

"Great! I'll do that! Well, I guess this is goodnight then."

"Yeah. Goodnight, Anakin. Thanks again for such a wonderful evening."

"You're welcome. I'll see you again soon, Padmé."

I lean in for one more slow kiss, gently tasting her, and again, I feel my heart hammering in my chest at the contact. I slowly pull back, then get out of the car, walk around, open her door for her, help her out onto the sidewalk, then I walk her to the front door of her apartment building. She grabs her keys from her purse, then unlocks the outer door, turns to me, whispers, "Goodnight," once more, and then she's gone from my view, inside the building, and the door shuts behind her. I know she's home safe now. So, I head back to my car, feeling like I'm walking on air.

I don't believe I've _ever_ felt such euphoria.

I climb inside my _Jeep_ , start up the engine, buckle up, and then head down the street to make my way home. On the drive, I mull over everything from tonight. How much fun we had, how adorable she is, how well we get along, and how _delicious_ she tasted...And, even though I'm going home alone, I can truthfully say, I've _never_ been happier in my life than right now.

I can't help the feral grin that appears on my face.

One thing's for sure, I'll be asking Ryan for more dating tips starting tomorrow, bright and early, because I don't have to pitch again for another four games, and we've got some time off between those games, as we're in a home field stretch, and I want to have several dates lined up in a row, ready to go.

Because my game plan to make her _mine_ is now in full swing.

And, I can't _wait_ for our next date.


	4. Chapter 4

**Game Plan: Chapter 4**

* * *

It's an _awesome_ day.

The sun is shining. The birds are singing, yadda, yadda, yadda...And, I can't fucking help the smug grin I _know_ I'm sporting _this_ morning. I've been on fucking Cloud Nine since last night. Date night. With _Padmé_. The very first of _many_ more dates to follow. Of that, I'm positive.

She and I hit it off _so_ well last night, it was almost unbelievable. I've _never_ felt that kind of connection with _any_ woman before. Ever. And I doubt it could've gone any better.

One thing's for damn sure...I know I want more with _her._ And, I'm not talking _just_ sex here...although, that's _certainly_ high up on my 'to do' list with her, don't get me wrong. But, upon returning home after dropping her off after our date, I couldn't stop myself from calling her to wish her a goodnight...and to thank _her_ for such an awesome time, and we ended up talking until almost one in the morning. Again, this is unheard of for me. When I _finally_ did manage to crawl into bed, I laid there, grinning like a fucking idiot, and thought over the entire evening, and I had another damn epiphany. I suddenly realized just how _perfect_ she was for me, and that I _don't_ want to imagine my life without her.

Because I already _know_ what life without her is like. Lonely. Pretty damn lonely actually, now that I think about it.

And, I don't like it one bit.

 _Never_ in a million years would I have believed that _I_ , the most notorious womanizer in the MLB, would have my proverbial wings clipped by an unknown, petite, but _hot-as-hell_ , slip of a middle school teacher. Nope. I sure as hell didn't see _that_ coming. I'm still stunned, to be honest. My life has been completely upended...and you know what? I couldn't be _any_ happier about it. So what if I'm 'off the market'? So what if Ryan is going to gloat and give me shit about this for who knows _how_ long? Big fucking deal.

Let him.

Turns out I may just owe him the thanks of a lifetime. Especially if this _thing_ with Padmé continues on the way I _hope_ it does. I wasn't kidding when I said I may just want it _all_ with her. And, by _all_...I mean _ALL_...Yeah, the rings, the 'I Do's,' the kids, the 'happily ever after.' Forever.

The whole fucking shebang.

Granted, it's a little _early_ to contemplate that, sure. But, this is _me_ we're talking about here...and for the man who once swore he'd probably _never_ settle down, eating my own crow is starting to look pretty damn likely.

And, I am _totally_ okay with that.

Anyway, now that I have a game plan firmly in mind...I just need my best friend's help for more date ideas, which I am going to pump him for today at practice.

Which, as I climb into my _Lambo,_ is where I'm on my way to right now.

Before I can even start up the car, however, my phone _dings_ , alerting me to an incoming text message.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and unlock it with my thumb print. Figured as much. It's Ryan, wanting to know how my date went.

 ** _So? How'd it go?_**

I have a feral grin as I type my response: **_Great! Couldn't have gone better!_**

The three flashing dots appear on my screen before his arrogant response comes through: **_Ha! Knew it, Bro! :P_**

I smirk and shake my head. Asshole. **_Yeah, tell ya all about it when I get to FP._**

 ** _K. See ya there, Bro._**

Locking my phone, I slide it back into my pocket, start my car up and go through the motions of exiting my fortified mansion.

Ok, it may not exactly be _fortified_ per se, but security is something I take seriously. _Very_ seriously. Privacy isn't something I get much of when I'm outside of my house, but when I'm home, I like to _know_ that no one can bother me or harass me unless I allow them to.

If they want to _try_ and jump my ten foot high wrought iron and stone fence with those iron spikes on the tops of every bar then they can be my guest. They'll just end up tripping the security perimeter alarms, and the Brookline Police will be on them before they even make it over.

It's happened before, so I know this from experience.

Unfortunately.

Look, my private life, as I've said before, is just that... _private._ And, I intend to keep it that way.

So, the security measures I have in place are just the cost of doing business in the public eye these days, and I wouldn't trade in my beautifully stitched ball or glove for anything.

I value my job, just as much as I value my next breath. I enjoy what I do, and I'm good at it. Damn good.

I simply wouldn't be Anakin Skywalker if I wasn't standing on the mound looking down at a guy who's trying to knock my ball out of the park. I love challenges, as Padmé saw last night, and I groan as my blood pumps right to my groin again, as she crosses my mind for the _umpteenth_ time already today.

I've never dealt with _anything_ like this before. It's seriously beginning to frustrate the hell out of me. She's beginning to consume my every thought, sleeping and awake, and no woman has ever even come _close_ to that before. I mean, even when I was in the middle of fucking, my head wasn't really focusing on the woman under me. Yeah, it may sound messed up, but _all_ it ever was for me was a pleasurable release, just another form of stress relief. I had _nothing_ invested in it beyond getting off. True, I made _sure_ my female companion got the fuck of her life out of it, but that's _all_ she'd get from me. There were _never_ any emotional entanglements. No messy relationships. It was _just_ fucking. That's all.

My nighttime companions were always just that, _night_ -time companions, and ones that I didn't even _remember_ after I left their place or their hotel room. I always knew better than to bring them back to _mine._ If I let any of them in, then they may just never want to leave, and I've always been nothing but forthright with every woman who's slept with me. She always understood up front that _all_ we were doing was sleeping together... _just_ fucking, like I said. That was it and nothing more. And, it was a one time deal at that.

I made some serious mistakes when I was younger, back in the minors, and I've made sure since then that I wouldn't be so stupid ever again. That is why I don't let _anyone_ buy me a drink or _give_ me a drink. I get my own. I order my own food. And, I _don't_ sleep with any cleat chasers _ever_ , because chances are high they already slept with either some of my teammates or other baseball players, and I'm _not_ about to let any woman trap me into a relationship because she got knocked up by me or... _lied_ about being knocked up by me. I learned that life lesson the hard way. Yeah, that experience is why I _never_ have unprotected sex, and why I _always_ have condoms in my wallet. An involuntary chill floods my body just remembering _that_ particular dark episode of my life.

Shaking my head though, I clear that from my mind. There's no need to remember that. That's in the past and won't happen to me ever again. I've learned a _lot_ since then, and that woman is the reason _why_ I am so very careful nowadays, and _why_ I don't usually let any woman get close to me.

Until Padmé walked into my life, that is. She's not like _any_ woman I've ever been with before, and what's so refreshing is that _she_ didn't pursue me, and _she_ hasn't tried to get in my pants like the cleat chasers try doing every single day of my life, like they could possibly _ever_ mean anything to me, like they could _ever_ be my 'one and only.'

Honestly, I didn't even think it was possible, y'know. Finding the proverbial 'one true love of your life.' I may have lived the carefree life as far as the public and the media was concerned, the life of a pro athlete, the life of a player _off_ the field, but that was never really _me._ Not deep down. It was just a persona that I created to protect what I lost, to protect my heart from _ever_ being hurt again. Padmé, though, came in out of literally nowhere and broke down the barrier around my heart. She broke _every_ single damn rule that I had, without even trying - and I haven't even slept with her yet, or even done anything more with her than share in that utterly amazing, toe-curling, heart clenching, electrifying kiss.

That kiss was like _nothing_ I've ever experienced before. _She_ is unlike anything I've ever experienced before, and with every contact I have with her - in person or on the phone or even via text, doesn't matter, she's leaving me wanting _more_. Like a man dying of thirst in the middle of a desert- she's my _only_ source of survival. I've never wanted anything- or anyone - more than her.

Perhaps not even baseball itself.

There's no doubt about it that baseball saved me growing up. It gave me the incredible life I have today, but with Padmé, the _only_ thing I can see is my future. No, _our_ future. Together.

And, I'm totally digging _all_ the possibilities.

I remind myself, however, for the millionth time since last night, _One step at a time, dude_. _Don't rush this!_

Ryan and I need to talk, and then I can figure out what to do for date number two. He may have been a player like me once upon a time, but since he met Dormé two years ago, he's become very well versed in the world of dating, and given how well he knows Padmé, he's the _only_ man who could help me out. He's the only man who could help me figure out my game plan.

And, that's _exactly_ what we're going to do. Figure it out. Today.

* * *

Security presses the button inside their little gatehouse, and the barrier lifts, allowing me entrance as I wave at them. I drive my _Lambo_ inside the players' parking lot and park in an empty spot inside and shut my car off, hop out, and lock the doors, as I pocket my keys in my navy Red Sox team zip up sweat jacket and walk towards the clubhouse.

Ryan and a few other guys are already there. We all have our our own workouts and training sessions scheduled depending on our positions, and since I just pitched the last game, my arm and I are taking it easy and just doing strength training and conditioning today. Unlike most other players on the team, pitchers have a _very_ different training regimen, and its mostly because of how we play.

Starting pitchers only play one out of every five games. That means during the other four games, we're back in the bullpen or on the bench in the dugout watching our teammates play. During those four days, we train with the rest of the team, but our training varies based on the day and based on how well we're performing.

I'm proud to say that I'm performing better now than I _ever_ have a day in my life. I'm not going to say I'm perfect, because that would be a lie, and I'm not going to lie to myself. No pitcher is perfect. They may throw a perfect game (if they're lucky enough to do so, considering only twenty-three pitchers ever have, and that's in the _MLB's_ one hundred and forty year history), yet that doesn't make them perfect.

Their _game_ may have been perfect, but _they're_ not. Nope, not even some of the all-time greats like Cy Young, Sandy Koufax, or Nolan Ryan.

None of us are, no matter how much we'd like to believe otherwise.

As I walk into the locker room, Ryan has a total shit-eating grin on his tanned face when he lays eyes on me. He makes his way over to me as I stand before my locker and begin to change out of my jeans and polo shirt and into my workout gear. " _Wellll_..." He says, motioning his hand in circles for me to spill my guts.

I refuse to talk about it in front of everyone else though, and instead, decide to just raise an eyebrow at him. " _Wellll_...what?"

He arches his brows right back at me and raises them even higher. He shakes his head at me. "Spit it out man, you _know_ you want to."

He's right, I do. But, that doesn't mean I can't _toy_ with him some. Y'know...drag the suspense out till it's almost killing him. I mean, that's what we _do_ after all, tease the hell outta each other. Besides, we'll be exercising together for a little while anyway, just like we always do, and when we're alone, I'll tell him. It's not that I'm ashamed of Padmé, or that I want to keep her a secret. Hell no. Not at _all_. I just prefer keeping her to myself for now and not being ribbed by the other guys on the team who know damn well how much of a player I am. Correction: How much of a player I _was._ But, they don't know that... _yet_. They don't know _why_ I am the way I am or what I experienced in the past that made me that way. Nope. All they know is that I don't _do_ relationships or see the same woman twice.

Hell, I don't even _date,_ and they _all_ know this.

More than a few of them have asked me to go out on a double or even a triple date with them and their significant others or with their dates for the night, and I've always turned them down because I don't _do_ dates.

None of them even ask me to join them anymore. _Ryan_ didn't even ask me the other night with Padmé there. He knows better. He's asked before, several times, and I've always had the same answer: _No_. But, I couldn't say no to Dormé when _she_ asked, not to mention I wasn't about to say no once I laid eyes on _that_ beautiful angel.

Ryan exhales _loudly_ , trying to show me his displeasure at my silence, but I didn't even realize he was still waiting for me to spill my guts. I thought he would've taken the hint. I motion him along to follow me as I finish changing and walk out of the clubhouse and towards the gym to get a good strength and cardio workout in today.

Ryan could be my spotter, and while he spots for me, we can talk about last night, and my plans for more dates to come...with his _help_ of course.

We walk into the gym, the rows and rows of various state of the art exercise equipment sitting around unused. We're here all alone, and that doesn't get lost on him.

 _"Sooo_..." He drawls into the huge empty room.

" _Sooo_..." I drawl right back, walking back towards the treadmills to get some running in before we lift some weights. I definitely gotta get the blood flowing and loosen up a bit first.

Starting my treadmill up, Ryan takes the one to my right and starts his up as well. His penetrating gaze doesn't leave me the entire time. He's waiting for me to spill, and I will...when I'm good and ready.

Which is about now..."I like her, ok. A _lot,_ " I admit, and that isn't something I say lightly. "I don't think last night could've gone _any_ better, and she just... _gets_ me, y'know, in a way that no other woman ever has or _could_ ," I tell him, as we start out on a slow jog. "She's super smart, has a great sense of humor...I mean, I _enjoy_ just talking to her. We talked and talked the whole night, and she kept me riveted on our conversation the entire time. I wasn't bored in the least. In fact, after I got back home last night, I called her just to tell her what a great time I had on our date, and we ended up talking until one in the morning. It is _so_ amazing to actually meet a woman with the intelligence to keep up with me, Ry. You know my mom raised me not to neglect my mind, and Padmé is as sharp as a tack. I was very impressed."

As the program on our treadmills picks up the pace, I glance over at Ryan only to see a smug _I knew it_ smirk on his face. I just _knew_ he was going to gloat about this. Oh well, let the ribbing begin, I guess.

"I had a feeling you two would hit it off," he says with a wolfish grin. He's right about that. We sure did hit it off. Amazingly well at that.

I nod, picking up my pace even more, "Yeah. we did. Really well. I took her to _Drake's._ Turns out, she'd never been there before, and we had a blast. We split a large deluxe pizza, which we both enjoyed. Then we bowled three games, and you were right...she's _really_ good at it. She even beat me once. We were tossing smackdowns at each other the whole time, just laughing our heads off. And, she gives _just_ as good as she gets, too. Again, impressing me. Finally, we shot pool for an hour, and she kicked my ass the first game! It was like she was some sort of pool hustler." I pause and shake my head and whistle, momentarily at a loss for words to describe just how _bowled_ _over_ I was by her. Yeah, pun intended, but dammit, it still applies. I _was_ bowled over!

And, I just _know_ my life's never going to be the same now that I've met Padmé.

Ryan keeps grinning as we continue our run, obviously delighted at this turn of events. I'm sure he can't _wait_ to compare notes with Dormé, who undoubtedly is pumping Padmé for information this morning, too. I can hear the _I told you so's_ already. We finish up our run after another twenty minutes, and as we turn off the machines, we decide to get in some push-ups next. It's important for pitchers to train both the large and small muscles of the upper body. This aides in both performance and reducing injury, but we have to be careful and keep our training balanced so we're not overdoing it and overtaxing our shoulders joints. Have you ever really _looked_ at pitchers? They don't have the physique of a weightlifter or a body builder, and that's intentional. If we lift weights _too much,_ we risk shoulder injuries, like rotator cuff tears for example; injuries that could potentially knock us out of baseball entirely, if it's a severe enough injury.

Even though I'm still pretty young at twenty-four, to protect my shoulder joints and muscles, I am _very_ careful about my workouts. To that end, I tend to avoid palm down lifts like lateral dumbbell raises, excessive bench pressing, and Olympic lifts. Instead, I do exercises that work just as well but are less risky like seated rows, pull-ups, push-ups, and isometric and rhythmic stabilizing exercises specifically to work the rotator cuff, just to name a few. My workouts are designed to keep me physically fit, toned, and strong from head to toe. After we do a few reps of basic push-ups and then pull-ups, we move on to do seated rows. Surprisingly, the gym is still empty aside from the two of us, which I appreciate. After adjusting the weights on our respective row machines, we each straddle the bench and grab the handles to begin, and with that, I pick up our conversation, "So, I asked Padmé out again."

Ryan's response is highly enthusiastic, "Awesome, Bro! What'd she say?"

I flick my eyes over at him and see a huge grin on his face, and I can't keep the mile fucking wide one off my own when I reply, "She said yes."

He lets out a loud _whoop,_ and because he knows me so damn well, he gives me a sly smirk, "Lemme guess... _You_ need more date ideas, don't you?" Dammit, he's gloating already. But, he's also right. I do, and he's the _only_ one I could come to for help, even if he _is_ being a smug bastard about it.

Sighing, I pause in my row lifts and turn to face him. Slinging my right leg over the bench, I lean forward, draping my forearms on my knees. "Yeah, man, I _really_ need your help. I mean, _come on..._ You know this is all totally new to me, Ry. I've never dated before, and I'm fucking clueless here. I need ideas for fun things we can go out and do, y'know, because I want to keep seeing her. I don't have to pitch again for the rest of this home stretch, and I'd like to have several dates planned and ready to go before we have to head out on our next road trip. Besides, Bro... _You've_ spent a lot of time with her since you started dating Dormé, so _you_ know her better. Gimme some ideas of things she'd like to do."

Ryan turns to face me, propping his own arms on his thighs and gives me a, _"Hmph,"_ as he purses his lips and seems to really consider my request. He's known Padmé for about two years now. I'm _sure_ he can come up with a few ideas. But, the minutes drag by, and I can't help getting nervous when he's still quiet. I'm about to bust when he finally looks up at me and rubs his right hand along his jaw, "Well, surprisingly, she really likes video games. Her parents have a _Wii_ and an _Xbox,_ but she actually enjoys arcade games. In fact, the three of us plus Padmé's roommate, Sabé, have been out to _A4Cade_ in Cambridge and made a night of it. It's great fun. They've got all kinds of pinball games and skee ball, and the beer and food are great, too. Ever been there?" he pauses and looks at me with his eyebrows raised. I quickly shake my head no, but I will damn well put it on my 'To Do' list for sure. Not only that, I am _thrilled_ to find out something else we have in common...I _love_ video games, too, and I have both a _Wii U_ and an _Xbox One_ myself at home. So, going to an arcade together sounds like a winner to me.

"Cool! That's perfect. Any other ideas?" I ask eagerly. Now that he's talking, I can't _wait_ to hear more suggestions.

"Well, Dormé and I have been out to _Dorchester Brewing Company_ on several occasions and had a ball. They have a pizza and game night every Monday from 5 to 9pm, which was a lot of fun, and they have good beer and free pizza, too. That's always a plus. You could try that. I think Padmé would like that a lot. There's also the _WGBH Craft Beer Fest_ coming up. We already had plans to go. Why don't you and Padmé come with us? We'll make it a double date...They've got live entertainment, all kinds of local breweries serving up beer, not to mention a variety of food trucks. Should be a lot of fun." He gives me a shrug and _that look_...the pleading puppy dog look he tends to give me that he _knows_ I have a hard time refusing, but he doesn't have to worry. I think it's a great idea, too, and I'm on board with it already.

Nodding my head slowly, I smile, "That sounds like a plan, Bro. We could make it a couples night out. I like it. Good idea." I turn back around and pick up the handles again to continue my rows. I do a few more lifts when I realize Ryan is still sitting there staring at me with a huge smirk on his face. I pause my workout again and cock an eyebrow at him, "What?"

He grins all the wider, " _Soooo_...Now you're a 'couple,' huh?" He even has the audacity to use fucking air quotes when he says it.

Asshole. So fucking smug. I _knew_ this would happen.

Still, he brings up a valid point. One I hadn't really considered...at least not yet. _Do_ I consider Padmé my _girlfriend_ already? After just one date? Hmm...I guess maybe I'm _leaning_ in that direction, yeah. I mean, I've never _had_ a real girlfriend before. Not even in high school. _But, aren't you planning on making Padmé yours, in every way, shape, and form...exclusively?_ a little voice says in my head. Yep. That's my game plan, alright. I want her and _only_ her from now on, for the rest of my days. But, even though that's my plan, I've not discussed this with her yet. I mean, I don't want to fucking scare her off at this point. We've only been on _one_ date so far, dammit. I think it'd be better to get a few more dates under our belts before we broach that topic.

Which reminds me. I still need more date ideas.

I pick up my handles and begin lifts again, shaking my head while I'm at it, "No, it's too early to really label us like that, Ry. I mean, I _really_ like her...and I _want_ to keep dating her. I want to see where this thing goes, y'know...but we need to go out on a few more dates first before we attempt to label ourselves as a 'couple,' I think," he nods in quiet understanding and turns back to continue his own lifts, and that's when I bring us back on topic, "So, got any more great date suggestions. You're on a roll here, after all."

He shrugs, "Well, if you want something truly romantic to enjoy, there's the _Gondola di Venezia_ boat tours on the Charles River at the Esplanade. I took Dormé on that when I proposed...and she _loved_ it, but that might be something to save for later on down the road." It's a great idea, and it _does_ sound romantic, but I have to agree...it's too soon to indulge in such an outing. Not that I won't look into it for later. I most certainly will. What woman _wouldn't_ swoon at such an expedition?

He continues, "Well, she _loves_ anything to do with water sports. She water skis, jet skis, snorkels, swims like a fish...Hell, she's even licensed to scuba dive, Bro. Along those lines, you could go kayaking on the Charles River or even go out paddleboarding. I'm sure she'd really enjoy either of those a lot. In fact, I bet _you'd_ enjoy those, too." He's right. I would. I _love_ being outdoors, and I do like to swim. I've even vacationed in the Caribbean before and tried my hand at both water and jet skiing and even snorkeling, and it _was_ a lot of fun...Great! _More_ common interests with Padmé.

It really seems like we have a lot in common, and the more I hear from Ryan, the more I fall for _her_. It's hard to even explain _how_ I feel. I've never felt this way before, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean, I _like_ it, of course, but it's still such a fucking surprise to have these feelings when I honestly _never_ thought I would.

Padmé seems too good to be true, honestly. She's downright beautiful, breathtaking really. Her personality matches mine to a tee. We have a lot in common, and we can talk all night- after all, we _did_ talk all night.

Could she really be _the one_ for me?

I fucking hope so, because like I said before, I know what life is like without her, and after just one date with her, it's hard for me to imagine life _without_ her.

This was part of the reason why I never allowed myself to see a woman more than once, I didn't want to start developing feelings for her only to find out that she was just using me or didn't feel the same way I felt, or didn't want what I want.

To give my heart to someone like I have before and to have it shattered again isn't something I want to experience ever again. But, Padmé is nothing like _her_. I know this, and my gut is telling me that she's _the_ _one_ for me.

It's like I know it deep down in my heart, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do to make _her_ feel the same way about _me._

To make her want _me_ , like I want _her_.

"Ry," he looks over at me, a questioning eyebrow raised. "You know her, am _I_...y'know, her _type?_ I mean, I like her a lot, a _whole_ lot, and you know my past, man. I may never have thought about putting a ring on _any_ woman's finger before, and I know it's _waaay_ too soon to even ponder such a thing, but..." I pause, frowning, a look of concern sweeping across my face, "...is _that,_ y'know, settling down and the 'happily ever after' with the rings and kids and stuff... is that something Padmé _wants?_ Is that something she'd want...with _me_? I mean...Is she aware of my _reputation?_ Because I'd hate for my past to scare her off."

 _Fuck._ I hate sounding vulnerable. I hate putting my heart out there. But, I _need_ to know that what I feel is something that _Padmé_ could reciprocate, and it's not something I can just flat-out ask her after just one date, and I just don't think I could continue to see her more and more, only to fall in love with her _more and more_ , only to discover that we're in two completely different places in our lives.

I'm not known to be a man who's ready - hell, even _willing -_ to settle down, and I'm sure it'd be hard for people to believe, but fuck it, I _am_ ready to settle down! As much as the thought terrifies me, it also excites me too, and I _do_ see a future for us- _together_.

I'm twenty-four years old, and my best friend, who is the same age as me, is getting hitched to the love of _his_ life, and I now realize that I want that, too. I _want_ to be able to go home to the same special someone every night, to have that special someone _waiting_ for me to come home to her, to _want_ me, to _talk_ to me, to _love_ me everyday for as long as we both shall live.

I just want someone to love me, really, truly _love_ me, and I want to _love_ someone. I want _Padmé_ to love me, like I'm already fucking _loving_ her.

Man, I'm turning into a sap.

Ryan forgets the weights and sits up, looking over at me like I'm an impostor. He's not the only one thinking that. I gotta admit I am, too, and I'm fucking _me_.

"Dude," he says, standing to his feet and moving over to where I am, until he's standing before me, and he crosses his toned, muscular arms. "You know I _always_ have your back, and true, the women we tried to set you up with before were all failures, I'll admit that. _But,_ Dormé and I have been trying to set the two of you up for a while now, for more than nine months actually. We've just had conflicting schedules or something or other always came up, and she had to cancel last minute." He shakes his head. "Anyway, _yes,_ I'm positive you two are a _perfect match,_ and she _is_ a fan of baseball and a fan of _yours_ in particular. Trust me. She's asked both myself and Dormé lots of questions about you for months now, _loooong_ before we set you two up, and she would even _blush_ when we called her out on it. And, yes...she's aware of your _reputation_ , and it didn't stop her from wanting to meet you."

Ryan raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "Look, Anakin...Padmé isn't one to fake anything. She's honest and forthright and straight up. If she _didn't_ like you and didn't _want_ to see you again, she would've said _no_ when you asked her out on a second date. But, I'm also warning you, too...She's _not_ the one night stand type, either. She's a true _lady_ , not a whore, ok. Just take it slow with her. Show her the _real_ you, not the you, you pretend to be to the public, and I'm sure she'll fall for you, like _you've_ fallen for her."

I nod my head silently at his advice. His words have the desired affect on me. They reassure me, and I _do_ know he always has my back. It's also nice to know that Padmé was interested in _me_ before we met. Maybe she even has a crush on me? That could explain why she was a bit nervous when we were at dinner after the game, that first night.

It could also explain why she was wearing my jersey. She wore it because she's a _fan_ of mine, and I couldn't be any happier about that. She took my breath away from the moment I saw her, and seeing her in _my_ jersey? Oh _fuck,_ did that do something to me.

I'm not kidding. I've been dreaming about her in my jersey ever since.

A shudder runs through me, I'd honestly like to see her in nothing _but_ my jersey and have that jersey be unbuttoned, so I could see what she's hiding underneath. I think I may just come to that image alone. _Fuck_ , I can't be thinking like that. Not out in public at any rate.

An extremely uncomfortable hard-on forms in my workout shorts, and I have to start thinking of something else to quell it down. I can't let Ryan see me like _this_ , but he's standing right in front of me! _Shit!_

I clear my throat and try to strategically rearrange myself, but we're _guys,_ best friends at that, and know each other pretty damn well.

"Wow," he says, a feral grin on his face, completely oblivious to the image that was running through my mind. "I bet I know what you're thinking of right about now. Turned you on, huh?" _Damn straight it did_. Asshole. He keeps grinning like a fool and pats me on the shoulder and goes back to his rowing machine. "Just promise me you won't let your _past_ interfere with your present and future, Bro. Padmé is special. A one of a kind type of woman. I guarantee you won't find anyone else like her anywhere."

No kidding. I've been with many women - hell more women than I can count really, and none of them have _ever_ stayed on my mind, and none have _ever_ had the effect on me that just imagining Padmé in my mind alone just had. It doesn't take much to get me hard. I mean, I'm a young guy who _loves_ sex. What guy doesn't? But, usually, it takes a woman getting all up close and _personal_ to turn me on, not just appearing in my _mind._

That brings up the obvious question, _When's the last time I had sex?_ Easy answer. The night before I met Padmé. I went clubbing with some of the guys and picked up some random chick from the bar and went back to her place and banged her...Sounds horrible to say this, I know, but I don't even remember what she looked like, and since I met Padmé, I haven't even _thought_ of satisfying my very real needs with anyone else, because waiting to get _her_ in my bed will totally be worth it.

I have no doubt in my mind about that.

And, once I get her there, I'm _never_ letting her leave it. I told you...I am _serious_ about what I'm contemplating already...Total exclusivity. Permanently. Legally. The whole deal. _Forever,_ with Padmé. But, Ryan's right. I can't rush this, and she is _definitely_ worth taking the time and effort to woo her, to court her. I need to take this slow and steady. But, Ryan breaks into my thoughts with more ideas, "Hey...We've been talking about going away for two or three days later this month. We were planning to go to _Six Flags New England_ and _Hurricane Harbor Waterpark_ for one day, and then drive across the border to Connecticut to go to _Foxwoods_. Padmé already agreed to come. She loves roller coasters as much as she does water sports and arcades, and you'd get to meet Sabé, her roommate, that way. She's coming too, with her boyfriend, Travis. He's a paramedic in Boston. Super nice guy. You'd like him, I'm sure."

That does sound like fun. I've been to _Six Flags_ several times in the past, and once more, I'm _thrilled_ that Padme and I have yet something _else_ in common. A love of amusement parks. It's a two hour drive west from Boston to get there. So, taking a two day trip away together - especially with our good friends with us - _really_ sounds awesome to me. "Yeah, Ry...that sounds perfect! Count me in!" I give him a nod and a big grin with my agreement.

 _Foxwoods_ sounds like fun too. It's a resort casino, and it's been a long time since I've been there. The last time I went I was actually with Ryan. We went to celebrate my twenty-first birthday, which shouldn't come as much of a surprise. I mean, he _is_ my best friend, and we do practically _everything_ together, and we had a helluva a great time _that_ trip, I gotta say. I can't help smirking at the memory... _Shit_ , it's a wonder we ever managed to sober up after that particular _expedition._

He's nodding his head, "Good! We gotta nail the dates down for sure so Travis can request the time off, but we're thinking of going over the All Star Break, since neither of us is playing in that this year. That way we can squeeze it in before the girls leave on their trip."

Trip? _What_ trip?

I stop my lifts and shoot Ryan a confused look, "What the hell are you talking about, Ry? What trip?"

He pauses in his lifts and gives me a surprised look, "Oh. That's right. You don't know, huh?" I shake my head no, a bewildered look on my face. I really have no clue what he's talking about. He enlightens me. "Well, see...Dormé wanted to go away for a girls' only trip before the wedding. So, she and several of her girlfriends, including Padmé and Sabé, are heading to Barbados for ten days later this month."

 _Ten days?_ Did he just say _ten_ fucking _days?!_ Because that's the _only_ thing I really heard, but I shouldn't really be surprised. We _are_ in the middle of the baseball season, after all, and there will be times where we'll be gone on road trips for away games, and we _could_ end up having a ten day stretch where we're not even around. Maybe these days coincide?

That'd surely help me to not _entirely_ miss seeing her I guess, since I wouldn't be around either. A groan tears out of me, and I shake my head in vain.

Fuck, who am I kiddin'? I have it bad, don't I? _Real bad._ What the _hell_ is _happening_ to me? _Why_ can't I get her out of my head? Why can't I push her to the side and just concentrate on what I'm supposed to be doing? _Because you want her - and only her - for the rest of your life, remember?_ a little voice in my head reminds me. Not that I really _needed_ the reminder. I'm _more_ than aware of the upheaval in my life since Padmé entered it, and though still mildly shocked by all of this, I gotta admit I am digging the changes my life is undergoing, and I'm more excited for the future than I have _ever_ been before.

Glancing at Ryan, I finish my lifts and stand up from the bench and stretch, "So, when do they leave on their trip?"

Ryan finishes his lifts and stands up as well before we make our way over to do some leg presses, "They leave on Friday, the twentieth, and they fly home on Monday, the thirtieth." I nod as I wave Ryan to go first, and I assume my position as his spotter. As he sets his weights and then starts with his leg presses, I'm left to ponder the dates the girls will be gone, and if I remember correctly, we'll be out on a road trip for most of those days, which is a good thing, I guess. I don't know if she'll be able to get voicemail or texts out of the country, though. I guess I'll ask her about that...and if she can't, well, we'll just have that much more to talk about when she gets home.

We wrap up our workout an hour later and head to the showers. We continue to discuss dating ideas as we both lather up and wash off. Turning off the water, we dry off and head back to our lockers and get redressed in our clothes from earlier. I gather up my stuff, grab my jacket, fist bump with Ryan and thank him for all his help and tell him I'll see him tonight for our home game against Toronto, then make my way back out to the parking lot and my car. It's just after 11 a.m., and I don't have to be back at the stadium until five this afternoon. I'm thinking of going and grabbing some lunch before heading home to catch a nap when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it from my pocket, I thumb it open, and I'm _thrilled_ to see a text message from Padmé, and I can't help the jolt of pleasure that shoots straight through me at hearing from her.

 ** _Hi! Whatcha doing? Busy? :)_**

Using my key fob, I unlock my _Lambo_ and climb in, shutting the door and setting my bag down on the passenger seat before hitting the call option by her name. She answers after the second ring, and I feel pleasure wash over me again at just the _sound_ of her soft melodic voice. _"Hello? Anakin?"_

A grin a mild wide forms on my mouth, "Hey, Padmé. Y'know, you _must_ be psychic."

 _"Oh? How so?"_

"Because you read my mind. I was just thinking about you. Actually, I've done nothing _but_ think about you all morning." My voice is deep and husky, and it has the desired effect.

She gasps and then giggles, and I can just imagine the beautiful blush I'm sure is sweeping across her cheeks at this moment. _"I've been thinking about you, too,"_ her response is soft and shy.

Suddenly filled with the need to see her again, I grab the bull by the proverbial horns, "I just finished my morning workout, and thought I'd grab some lunch. Would you like to join me? I mean, if you're not busy, of course." _Please don't be busy_ , I think to myself. Fortunately, her answer is immediate, and I can't stop the rush of excitement I feel when she speaks.

 _"Sure! That'd be great! It's a gorgeous day out...How about a picnic? We could grab some sandwiches from Sam LaGrassa's and go to Christopher Columbus Park and hang out. Does that sound good?"_

"That sounds _perfect,_ actually! Get ready. I'm on my way to get you. Be there in about thirty. Ok?"

 _"Sounds good. Text me when you get here, and I'll be right down."_

"Great, Padmé! See you in a bit."

 _"I can't wait, Anakin! Bye!"_

"Me, too. Bye."

We hang up, and I let out a loud _whoop_ and a _Yeah, Baby!_ as I fist pump the air in triumph. I wasn't expecting date number two this quick, but I am _not_ going to complain about it, that's for damn sure. I shove my phone back in my pocket, put on my _Ray Ban_ sunglasses, start up my car, and pull out of the players' parking lot, waving to the security staff as they raise the gate for me, and then head off for Padmé's.

Gunning the motor, my grin is positively feral as I maneuver through traffic, more sure than ever that my game plan _is_ going to work and that Padmé will soon be _mine._

And, I can't fucking wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**G** **ame Plan: Chapter 5**

* * *

I can't stop grinning as I pull up to a parking spot across the street from Padmé's apartment building. It's a beautiful day for a date outdoors, and I _still_ can't even believe she texted me and was up to meeting me again so soon.

It's fucking awesome!

Last night was _perfect_ , absolutely perfect, and I couldn't _wait_ to see her again after I kissed her goodnight and walked her to her door. I'm just glad she obviously feels the same way. I'm also thankful as fuck that I had another good man to man with Ryan this morning during our workout. He gave me some fantastic date ideas, but this time, I'm glad _she_ suggested one herself.

Whipping out my phone, I open up my text messages and send her a quick text: **_Hey, I'm downstairs :)_**

The three dots appear immediately: **_Be right down ;)_**

I grin at my cell and shake my head. Who would've thought a simple text – and that damn winky face emoji - from the woman of my dreams could make me so damn happy? Man, I never _knew_ a woman could make me feel this way. Never thought it was even possible.

Until now.

But, Padmé proved me wrong when she _literally_ took my breath away when I saw her for the first time, and almost from the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that I _couldn't_ let her get away from me. Not only is she the most incredibly gorgeous woman I've _ever_ seen, but she's got the whole fucking package to go with it - her intelligence, her personality, her wit, her compassion, her voice, her laugh, her lips, her skin, her scent, her devotion to her work…Oh hell yeah, she's got it _all._

The front door of her building opens, she steps out, and I feel my jaw go slack. My window's rolled all the way down, and I can't stop staring at her perfect feminine form with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

 _Fuck me!_

Padmé's carrying a picnic basket on one arm, her small black backpack style purse is slung over her shoulder, and she's got a white, zippered, hoodie sweatshirt jacket draped over her other arm. My jeans become a _little_ uncomfortable, a little _tight_ from the hard-on I got happening down below, as I continue to gawk at her. She never ceases to amaze me, or turn me on, and all she's done is step outside. What can I say? Padmé just has that _powerful_ of an effect on me.

I shake my head as if to clear it and get a better look at the perfect woman she is, as she closes the front door. She's wearing a pair of faded denim shorts that barely go mid-thigh with these adorable folded up cuffs, drawing my attention to that perfect pert ass of hers, and what a _fine_ ass she has. I remember it well from last night, when she practically had my eyes glued to her ass from all the times she bent over right in front of me to bowl or shoot some pool. Shaking off the memory which does _nothing_ to quell my hard-on, I let my eyes roam over her petite form and note she's got on a fitted, lavender sleeveless top in an eyelet material with a rounded collar and a small white ruffle around the bottom, and as she turns to face me, I notice it buttons up the front, accentuating her breasts and nearly makes me drool. I continue my perusal of her and let my eyes roam down her gorgeous form and find that, despite her petite size, she has these _incredibly_ toned, tanned shapely legs that seem to go on _forever._ At the end of the journey, I see she's wearing some white _Nike_ flip-flops on her dainty feet.

 _Holy shit!_

Man, who knew someone so small could have legs like _that_? Not this guy, but I must admit I'm particularly interested in feeling those stunning legs wrapped around my waist as I... _Whoa, slow down, dude! Getting a little ahead of yourself there!_ I shake my head and blink, trying to calm my body down. I don't want her gawking at my hard-on. Well, I'm lying. I actually _do_ want her gawking at my hard-on, but _not_ until we reach that point in our relationship. We're just not there yet. And, the very _last_ thing I want to do is rush things between us and have her think that I just want to get her naked and in my bed. I can deal with my blue balls, they may not exactly _like_ my right hand as of the last few days, but that's _all_ they're going to be getting for the immediate future, because I'm going to wait until she's ready before I take _that_ step with her.

I've never been a patient man, really, but for _her_ , I can be. Why? Because I realize I'd actually like to take my time and _savor_ every moment of this budding romance. Why rush things, after all?

Besides, Ryan warned me to take it slow with her, that she was a real _lady_ and not an easy hookup type of girl. I'd already figured that out for myself, of course, but the reminder is timely…especially when she's looking as fine as all _that._

Taking a deep breath, I jerk my gaze back to her face and find myself wanting to see those beautiful dark brown eyes again, but they're covered up by a pair of dark sunglasses. She has her hair piled up on top of her head in a causal loose bun with a few wisps framing her face catching my attention. She has on some dainty silver knotted earrings that sparkle in the sunlight.

Am I a lucky man, or am I a _lucky_ man? I don't know _how_ in the world she's still single, but if I have things _my_ way, she won't be single for long.

Uh-huh. Just like _me,_ she'll be _off_ the market. And yep, I am _totally_ off the market. _Sorry ladies, but I'm taken_. _Permanently._

Padmé walks towards me, and I notice a little smile flirting on those gorgeous pink lips of hers. It makes me want to kiss her senseless, and only now do I realize my jaw's still hanging open, gawking like an idiot, and I snap it shut. It's a wonder I didn't catch a few flies, with my window being down and all.

I open my door and hop out, cross the street and quickly eat up the distance between myself and Padmé with long strides and meet her on the sidewalk. Her little smile becomes a real one and nearly blinds me in its intensity, I smile back and extend my hand to take the picnic basket from her. She hands it over to me gratefully, and I lean down to greet her with a kiss.

Her lips meet mine in a soft kiss, and I'd love to deepen it, maybe stick my tongue in her mouth to become reacquainted with her own, but I can't do that without wanting more. So, reluctantly, I pull back and grin down at her, offering her my arm like the gentleman I'm becoming...because of _her_. _For_ her. Because trust me, with all those other women? There wasn't a _gentle_ bone in my body. "You look _beautiful,"_ that's an understatement, she really looks _scrumptious,_ like an all-you-can-eat buffet, and that's a buffet I'd _really_ like to enjoy. Talk about a sumptuous feast. And, I _know_ I'll never grow tired of it, either. I'll also never be full. Talk about _insatiable?_ Yeah, that'd be me.

She blushes at my compliment and wraps her arm around mine, and we cross the street to my _Lambo_. "Thank you," she says in a way that makes me wonder if she knows just how truly gorgeous she is. Does she even own a mirror? Anyone with eyes in their heads can tell she's hot as hell, if not _hotter_. Seriously, it nearly guts me to hear that lack of confidence in her own beauty. I mean, come _on!_ I can't possibly be the first man to ever tell her she's beautiful, but dammit, I'll tell her as many times as it takes, and then some, until she starts to believe it herself.

Because I kid you not. She's _seriously_ the single most gorgeous woman I've _ever_ seen, and that's a not a joke or an exaggeration on my part, considering the models, actresses, and even a few _Playboy Playmates_ I've been with before. It's the damn _truth._ She blows _all_ of those women right out of the water.

As we reach my car, she openly admires it, and I open the passenger door for her and grab my bag that's sitting on the passenger seat and toss it on the floorboard. Her eyes are wide as she takes in my car, something I could see even behind her shades, and when she sits down inside, I hand her the picnic basket, then close the door and run around to my side and hop in.

"Nice car, huh?" I say, starting up the engine, enjoying the sound of it coming to life. It purrs like a contented kitten, and if the expression on her face is anything to go, she enjoys it, too.

She nods, seemingly speechless.

I suppress a grin, liking the fact that she likes my car. "So where to?" She suggested a place called _Sam..._ something or other, but I don't know this area of town as well as she does, and I've never heard of this establishment before.

She nods down the street and finds her angelic voice as I start driving. _"Sam LaGrassa's,_ it's only a couple of blocks away." She gives me the directions, and in just a few minutes, we arrive and find a parking spot right across the street from the place.

I cut the engine, open my door and walk around to the other side and open the door for Padmé. She climbs out, picnic basket in hand, which I take from her again, and we walk across the street to the sandwich shop.

Damn, it's pretty freakin' packed in here, but it's lunch time, and this place seems like it's _the_ place to go. I'm not wearing a hat or anything to shield my identity, and I can feel some eyes on me, but nobody approaches me or seems to be able to place me.

Good, because I _don't_ want to be hounded for selfies and autographs right now. It's not that I _mind_ taking some selfies with my fans and signing my name for them, but I'm out on a date with Padmé, the woman that's literally consumed my every waking and subconscious thought and just want to enjoy this time with her by ourselves without interruptions, y'know?

As we make our way forward in line, I can't help but notice how wonderful the smells in here are. Obviously, they've got good food at this place, judging by how busy they are and the delectable smells I can't help inhaling deeply. I take a few whiffs as people pass us by, leaving the shop with their sandwiches and subs in hand. They smell divine, and my stomach apparently agrees. Padmé notices and smiles, I shrug sheepishly, and explain, "Ryan and I worked out quite a bit this morning. I'm starving like you couldn't _possibly_ believe, what do you recommend?" I ask, enjoying the look she gives me when she takes off her shades.

Padmé has eaten here many times before, she'd said in the car on the drive over here, and her dark brown eyes are wide in excitement and the look in her eyes tells me she knows _just_ the thing I should order. "I'm going to order the _Chipotle Pastrami platter_ with extra meat and cheese, a large dill pickle, some cole slaw and potato salad."

 _Fuck that sounds good_. My stomach agrees, making its voice heard, _loudly_. "Then that's what I'll get too," I nod in agreement, my mouth watering at the suggestion. To drink, I asked for a _Coke,_ while she ordered a _Sprite Zero._ I pay for our food in cash, leaving the change in the Tip jar, while she gives her name for the order so as not to draw more attention our way. I nudge her with my elbow and give her a wink in thanks for not saying my name out loud. She just gives me a slight nod and purses her lips in silent understanding, then, we move along the counter to the pickup area to wait for our order.

She smiles, knowingly, and fuck if that doesn't please me to no end. It sets off something primal inside me, and I have to fight the urge to bang on my chest. I've never met a woman like her before, and the more we get to know one another, the more I find myself falling for the gorgeous school teacher at my side, and I _really_ want us to move to the next step. Not sleeping together, no, because I want to take a slower pace with this. She's worth the wait. I know she is. Rather, in cementing our relationship. It may be too soon to put a label on us, true, but fuck, I never wanted to be _any_ woman's boyfriend before _now_ , and I'm talking exclusively here.

As in, Padmé's all _mine,_ and I'm all _hers_.

And, surprisingly, I'm not getting the chills or breaking out in hives at that thought. I'm actually quite proud of myself, but I know it's only because of Padmé. No joke. If she was _any_ other woman, I wouldn't be going out of my mind for her like I am, and I wouldn't be abstaining from my _carnal urges_ by going after other feminine eye candy, and I surely _wouldn't_ be going out on a picnic lunch with her. Nope. I would've just taken her to bed, banged her, and moved on to the next woman.

That's one of the reasons why I'm refusing to allow myself to go there with her just yet. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to have sex with her. Rest assured, I want _that_ as much as I want to win the _World Series_ , but some things in life are worth waiting for. And, I know when I _finally_ get Padmé naked and in my bed, _everything_ would've been worth it.

And, just like in order to win the _World Series,_ you have to work long and hard to get there and you have to give it your all, I'm going to do the exact same thing for Padmé. I'm going to work hard and _prove_ to her that I'm in this for the long haul, and that I'm _not_ the same man that I was before I met her. I'll gladly wait until _she's_ ready to be intimate, to be naked with me in _my_ bed, and I'll pour everything I have into our relationship to make it work for the both of us, to show her how much I already care for her, and how much she truly means to me.

I'm being totally honest when I say I think I'm already falling in _love_ with her.

But, we're still in the middle of baseball season though, and as such, I won't be around as much as I'd like to be. I'll need to bring that up when we have the talk about being _exclusive_ , which I hope is soon _,_ and I'll need to be nothing but blunt and honest with her.

Two things people know I am.

Whenever I met a woman and slept with her for the night, she couldn't say that I was anything _but_ blunt and honest. They all knew the score upfront, it was _just_ fucking, plain and simple. Nothing more. No exchanging numbers or email, no making plans for the future or even for another hookup, and sometimes I didn't even ask them their names because I knew I wouldn't remember it, or care to remember it, for that matter. Besides that, I wasn't interested in talking with them anyway. It was _all_ about hitting the sheets.

Yeah, I was a goddamn pig. I'll be the first to admit that, but then, I saw Padmé for the first time and went cold turkey on my womanizing ways. Literally.

No doubt my _mom_ will be proud of all this. She's been hounding me since I made it to the Majors to find a woman and settle down with her and start a family. She's not very happy about my womanizing ways, I gotta admit. She wants me to find true love and to be happy. To have kids, because that's the _other_ thing she's continually dropped hints about since I turned twenty-one…How very much she wants _grandchildren._

Kids. Having kids. Damn, that thought used to terrify me. Since I met Padmé, however, I admit I've had more than one dream about me and her having kids together. Quite a few kids, actually. And, just like the idea of settling down with Padmé doesn't freak me out, neither does the idea of becoming a father…as long as _she_ is the mother, just to be clear.

Yeah, my mom's long-held wish has been for me to move on from my past, and I think Padmé is exactly the woman I need to help me do just that.

Suddenly, they call out Padmé's name. Great! Our food's ready. We grab our order, and I put the bag and drinks inside the picnic basket, and we walk back out to my car. I'm not exactly sure _where_ our destination is from here, so I ask her.

"We'll need to drive, it's like eight or nine blocks from here." I nod, and we hop back in our car, and she gives me the directions. Oh yeah! I remember this park. It's only a block away from the _New England Aquarium,_ and I can't even remember the last time I was there. It used to be one of my favorite places to go as a kid. My mom would bring me there all the time. I always found watching the fish swimming in their tanks so fascinating, so soothing.

After parking and locking the car, we walk to a nice, kinda secluded, shady spot under a tree, out of the way of the paths that tourists and our fellow Bostonians walk across every day. She opens the picnic basket and pulls out a nice folded blanket from an upper zippered storage tray. I didn't even realize how big it was or how prepared she was until now. I'm grateful for it and pleased to see how much thought she put into this on such short notice.

Did I mention how bad I have it? Did I mention how I keep falling for her more and more? Because I am, on both counts, and I'm falling for her even more as I stare down at her as she lays the blanket down and smooths it over for us.

Then she smiles up at me, and I feel my heart flip-flop in my chest. We take a seat on the blanket. I stretch my long legs out before me, and she sits to my right. Then she pulls out our food and drinks from the basket and divvies it up, and we begin to enjoy our time together, eating, drinking, and enjoying the beautiful weather. The sun is shining bright overhead. The sky is a perfect blue above us, birds are chirping away in the trees, and the sound of waves slapping against the wharf carries across the park. The temperature's in the low-eighties today with low humidity, and we hear the occasional chatter of people as they walk down the paths around us. Padmé couldn't have picked a better spot for us to just sit, relax, eat our lunches, and enjoy our time together. I've only known this amazing woman for the past week, and she's already become a major part of my life. I'm just hoping she'll become an even _bigger_ part of my life as time rolls on.

But that's a conversation for another time.

Right now, it's time for food. As I set my meal out before me, Padmé does the same and a thrill shoots through me at doing this. It may be shocking to hear, but with the exception of my youth with my mom, I've _never_ done anything like this before. And let me tell you here and now, I'm glad I'm doing this with Padmé. "Do you come here often?" I ask her, lifting my _Chipotle Pastrami_ sandwich to my mouth and taking a big bite.

 _Oh, Man!_

I groan at the delicious taste, my eyes falling closed. Damn, I haven't eaten a sandwich like _this_ in...I don't know _how_ long. Maybe never. I may just have to start eating here regularly. With her, of course.

Once I reopen my eyes and come back to focus on Padmé's gorgeous face, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and grin. She has a sexy ass grin on her face, and I'm sure it's because of my groan and how I acted like I've never eaten before. "I do," she nods, picking up her own sandwich and taking a bite. I watch her chew with her mouth closed, and my eyes lock onto her throat as I see her swallow it down. She blushes and looks out across the park, and I can't get over how adorable she is. "Have you ever been here before?" She motions around us, indicating the park and the general area.

I let my gaze fall down to my own sandwich, because she averted her eyes from mine, I hope I'm not making her uncomfortable. "As a kid, yeah." I just didn't know the name of this park, and it's changed a lot since I was just a kid. "My mom would bring me around here to go for a walk, and then we'd go to the Aquarium. I used to love going there, so my mom used to bring me at least once or twice a month until I was nine. That's when we moved out of the city to my stepfather's farm."

I just realize that I haven't been here since. I'm sure the Aquarium's changed a lot, too.

Huh. Maybe she'd like to go with me? "Do you like going to the Aquarium?"

Her eyes gleam, and they're locked back on mine, and she nods eagerly. "It's one of the enjoyable field trips I go on as a teacher. The kids all love it, and seeing the fish, sharks, stingrays, turtles, sea lions, penguins..." She begins to blush once more, and _again_ she averts her gaze.

But, I don't let it go this time. I want her to feel comfortable talking to me and not get embarrassed when she's ranting about what she's passionate about. I love that about her, and nope, the L word doesn't even phase me. Just so you know.

I scoot closer to her and lift her chin with my fingertips so she has no choice but to look up into my eyes. "Please don't do that again." My voice is serious, my eyes are too. "I _want_ to know what you like, dislike, feel passionate about...I want to know _everything_ about you, Padmé." Her breath hitches, and I have to refrain with everything in me to keep myself from molding our lips together and doing something I _know_ I'll regret later. "Why don't we finish eating, and then go for a walk around the Aquarium?"

She slowly nods, and smiles shyly, and we finish our food in silence. Her face is still red from her blushing and she looks so fucking adorable

We'd polish off our food platters, and she reaches in the basket and brings out a container of freshly prepared fruit salad she'd made herself that morning. Full of strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries, topped with homemade granola and chilled whipped cream, it's a great way to finish off our picnic. After practically _inhaling_ our dessert, which was incredible, we gather up our trash, the blanket, and the basket, and we head off to walk around the park and the Aquarium and stretch our legs and enjoy the nice waterfront breeze and the sunshine. We walk around for another thirty minutes, continuing our scintillating conversation, and thankfully, not one single person pays us any mind at all or interrupts us by asking for my autograph. We're just like everyone else in the park - just two people out enjoying a beautiful summer's day.

I really appreciate that, too, because I _don't_ get to do this very often...especially not here at home in Boston. Seriously, it's rare for me to be able to go out anywhere in this town and not have people coming up to me asking for my autograph and selfies with me. Yeah, I love the fans, true, but I gotta admit, when I'm out with my friends, family, and now Padmé, I'd rather not be disturbed.

It's as we're walking along, laughing and enjoying our conversation, that my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see it's a text from Ryan. Opening it, it reads: **_Dormé's coming to the game. Does Padmé wanna come too? The 4 of us can go out afterward for grub. Sound good?_**

It _does_ sound good, actually. I pause in walking and glance at Padmé, "Ry says Dormé' coming to our game tonight. Do you wanna come? He says the four of us could go out for dinner afterward. Whatcha think?"

Immediately, she nods and says, "Yeah! Sounds great! I'd love to!"

Awesome! Date # 3, coming right up! Ryan, my man, I owe you one!

Grinning like a fool, I text Ryan back: **She __says yeah. Count us in! Can you get her ticket for me & I pay you back?**

The three dots appear: **_U bet. Will try to get the Dugout Box next to our dugout._**

I quickly text him back: **Great! Thx, Bro! See you at FP!**

I put my phone back in my pocket. I will say, that's one nice thing about playing _MLB_ baseball...the stadium staff definitely tries to help out the players when their families and WAGS want to come watch the home games. I smile down at Padmé, "This is great! Ry's gonna get your ticket for you."

She smiles again and nods, "Awww…I appreciate that. This should be a lot of fun then!"

I agree. It should.

But, as fun as tonight should be with the girls, unfortunately, our afternoon date in the park has to come to an end now. I have to be back at the stadium two hours before game time, and I still have to drop Padmé off at her place before going home, dumping out my bag and repacking it with clean clothes.

Which means, we'll need to motor on for now.

We head back to my car. I unlock it with the key fob, and we climb in. Padmé suddenly turns to me and smiles, "How about we go get coffee from _Starbucks?"_ There's one down on _Atlantic Avenue._ Sounds great to me. So, I start up the car, and we drive a few blocks down _Atlantic Avenue_ and stop in at _Starbucks_ to grab a couple of cool beverages. She chooses the _Iced Cinnamon Almond Milk Macchiato_ , me the blended _Mocha Frappuccino_. While we're waiting for our drinks, Ryan texts back that he'd gotten the girls seats in Field Box 24, Row 2. _Fuck yeah!_ I text back and ask him to have their tickets ready and waiting for them.

I'm waiting for his response when my phone starts ringing. It's Ryan. "Hey, Bro."

 _"Back'atcha. Listen, Dormé and I'll swing by and pick Padmé up on the way back to FP. I'll have her ticket with me and just give it to her in the car. That way the girls can walk in together from the parking lot with me. Sound good?"_

Cool. That sounds like the perfect plan to me. "Yeah, man. Sounds great. See you in the clubhouse."

He says bye, and we hang up. And, with our drinks now in hand, we head back out to the car.

I drop Padmé back off at her place after we leave _Starbucks,_ indulging in another toe-curling, hunger-inducing, fantasy-fulfilling kissing session before I get out of the driver's seat and walk round and hold the passenger door for her, giving her my hand and assisting her from the car. I walk her to the front door of her apartment building, sharing another gentle kiss with her, before telling her I'll see her after the game, in the locker room where we'll meet up with Ryan and Dormé for dinner. She nods and then she smiles and we say our goodbyes. As I step back from her, I shove my hands in my front pockets and bite my lip. There's something I really want her to do for me. "Hey, Padmé…Would you wear my jersey again tonight for me?" Seriously, I have jacked off more times to the image of her in nothing _but_ my jersey since the night I met her that I feel like I _need_ to see her in it again.

She giggles and smiles at me, promising she will, and I _know_ my face lights up like the moon with her agreement, and then she goes inside her building, and I practically _skip_ back to my _Lambo_ , though I'd fucking deny it if anyone asked. Over the moon or not, guys _don't_ skip. Getting in my car, I fire it up, and then I drive home, the grin never leaving my face. Not once. Turns out, once I get home, I have _just_ enough time to dump my dirty clothes on my bed and repack my bag with fresh clean clothes, suitable for a night out with my new _almost_ girlfriend and our two best friends and head back to work.

And I say _almost_ because I admit that more and more, especially after the extended picnic we enjoyed today, that's how I see Padmé. As my almost girlfriend, though actually _having_ a girlfriend doesn't give me the chills or scare the shit outta me as much as I ever thought it would.

I've just always been _so_ focused on becoming the man, the _MLB_ baseball player I am today, that I didn't give _any_ attention to my personal life. I may desire women, their sweet curves, soft skin...and everything else they hide underneath their clothes, but I just never allowed myself to really picture a future with any of them.

Padmé, though, is completely different. I _can_ picture a future with her, and the thought of having a future, of _sharing_ a future - till death do we part - with a woman like her doesn't scare me at all. Nope. I don't break out in hives. I don't get the chills. I don't shudder in horror. I don't panic and hyperventilate. I don't do _any_ of the things I always imagined I would when entertaining such thoughts.

Instead, I calmly accept the reality of our situation and feel myself warming up quickly to bringing it up with _her._ Y'know, having us date _exclusively._ Us dating exclusively though is mostly a selfish thing, I have to admit, because I haven't looked at _any_ other women since I met her. Not _one._ In fact, the truth is, I don't even _think_ about other women at all anymore. Seriously, I don't. I've stopped going clubbing with the guys or even hanging out in bars, as shocking as that fact has been for my teammates to believe (or accept). Of course, on the flip side of that coin, I don't want _her_ looking at any other _men_ either. No sir. The _only_ man I want her looking at from now on is yours truly.

It's a stunning turn of events, really, given this is _me_ we're talking about here. Honestly, it's almost stupefying when I think about it.

I mean, she's an _incredibly_ attractive woman. As Ryan said, she's _hot._ Really, she is. Again, how in the _hell_ she's still single is beyond me. But, now that I have my sights set and locked on her, and _only_ her, I don't want any other guys trying to muscle in on _my_ turf and making a move on her to try and steal her away from me. Hell fucking _no_ to that. Ain't gonna happen. If I've not made myself clear before, I will state it plainly here and now: Padmé is going to be _mine._ No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I want to charm my way into her life and have her only thinking about _me_ , about _us_ , about _our_ future together…as a couple. Permanently.

Yeah, even after only a week of knowing her, I'm absolutely certain of that fact.

And we're off to a great start, I think. We hit it off perfectly almost from the beginning. We have _so_ many things in common. She really gets me, y'know? She already understands how I think...Hell, she can even finish some of my _sentences_ for me, like she did this afternoon during our picnic. We have the same sense of humor, like the same types of music and movies for the most part. We seem to like the same types of food, and she can apparently cook as well, always a plus for a guy who loves to eat like I do.

I'm _so_ excited to be going out with her again tonight on a double date with our best friends. I wonder where Ryan wants to go tonight. I doubt we'll hit _The Bullpen_ again. I'm sure he'll want to go somewhere different. I'll try and ask him about that when he gets here. Here being the stadium, of course. It's about 04:50 in the afternoon, and I'm back in the locker room getting ready for our game against Toronto tonight. I'm not pitching this evening since I just pitched our last game, but I still have to get dressed in our team's uniform and join my teammates in the dugout. The game's not until 07:10, but we're required to be here two hours ahead of time, which is fine by me.

About ten minutes later, Ryan strides into the locker room, making a beeline for me. He's grinning a mile wide as he reaches me. I'm already dressed in my uniform by this point, and I arch an eyebrow at him, returning his feral look with a matching one of my own. "So, ready for tonight, Bro?" he asks me, adjusting his duffle bag on his shoulder.

To say I'm ready is a fucking understatement. I'm so ready I'm practically _giddy_ with excitement, but no damn way am I telling _him_ that. He's already enjoying this far too much as it is. So, I play it cool, "You bet! Where you thinking of going anyway?"

" _King's_. Over on _Seaport Boulevard_. Ever been there?"

Again, I shake my head no. I've heard of _King's_ but never been there. "Nope. Heard of it, though. Fun place?"

He nods, "Hell yeah. Great fun. We've been before. They've got bowling, pool tables, arcade games, foosball, that kinda stuff, and the food's good. Figure it'll be fun, a nice way to unwind, and maybe we won't get mobbed while there."

I'm definitely on board with this, no doubt about it. Good friends, food, and fun. Oh, and the woman of my dreams. Doesn't get any better than that, right? I nod, my lips pursed, "Sounds good to me. Should be a lot of fun. Looking forward to it."

He shoots me a smirk, "Yeah. I just _bet_ you are."

"Shut up, man." My lips twist and I shake my head at him.

He just laughs, pats me on the back, and says, "Oh yeah, the girls were grabbing a snack and a drink first before heading to their seats."

"Great...By the way, did she, uh, wear my jersey?" I know she said she would, but I just wanna double check. I mean, like I said I've been dreaming about her wearing my jersey since the night we met, and I _really_ want to see her in it again.

He smirks and nods, "Yep, she sure did. Don't worry. It's still got your autograph on it from the other night." Asshole. I roll my eyes at him, but he just laughs again, slaps me on the back, and moves over to his locker to begin getting ready for the game. I may not be playing tonight, but Ryan still has to.

Since I'm all dressed in my uniform, I plop down on my seat in front of my locker and pull out my phone. Thumbing it open, I decide to send Padmé a quick text. Grinning, I find her contact and start typing: **Hey! Got your ticket?**

After a moment, she fires back a response: **_Yep! Getting a Coke and a Fenway Frank and fries before we head to our seats_**

 **Great! Ry said he got you tickets next to our dugout**

 ** _Yeah, that's what he said. I'm just following Dormé, so I don't get lost! :D_**

 **Good! Don't get lost! We're going out after the game with R &D for dinner. So, don't eat too many hot dogs**

 ** _Gotcha! Wore your jersey and jeans...Better be casual wherever we go_**

 **It is. Going to King's on Seaport**

 ** _Awesome! Love that place! :)_**

 **Good! See you after the game! :)**

I mute my phone and press the button to lock it and then put it in my backpack and set my backpack in my locker. I wish I could continue texting Padmé during the game, but players aren't allowed to use tech devices, like cellphones, in the dugout. Still, it's okay. I'll be able to look over at her during the game from where I'll be sitting on the bench and enjoy watching _her_ enjoy the game…not to mention stare at her wearing my jersey. I'll just have to be careful not to let my thoughts get _too_ carried away. I mean, I _can't_ get a fucking hard-on in the dugout in front of my team, all those fans, _and_ the damn TV cameras. I mean, yeah, my rep's out there for all to read about on _Google_ , true, but dammit, last thing I want or need are pictures of me on _ESPN_ tonight with all the commentators talking about – and pointing at - a bulge in my crotch! Wouldn't _that_ go instantly viral! No, thank you!

While I wait for my teammates to finish getting ready, I grab a light pregame meal. The team commonly provides us with a healthy spread before each game, like fruit, veggies and dip, sandwich fixings, and other light snacks. I grab a bottled water, an apple and fix a chicken sandwich, and kick back with some of my teammates, eating and discussing the upcoming game. I'd already worked out earlier in the day with Ryan, and I didn't have to be here for batting practice, since I'm not pitching tonight, which is _why_ I had the free time to enjoy my picnic with Padmé this afternoon. Once I've downed my food and water, I just relax watching some pregame TV to pass the time until we hit the field for the game. I'm really keyed up about tonight's game, knowing that Padmé's here to watch and cheer on my team…and wearing _my_ jersey while at it. I'm thrilled to know that she's a big baseball fan and honestly enjoys the sport that I live and breathe. From what I've seen and heard from my teammates over the years, having a WAG that genuinely supports you in your baseball career is important. I've certainly witnessed that with Ryan and Dormé. She's almost always here at every home game to cheer Ryan on and has even traveled a few times to support her love in away games. I muse on that thought. During the school year, it would probably be unlikely Padmé could come to any of my away games since she'd have to teach during the week, but maybe she could visit me some while we're down in Florida for Spring Training…and even travel for some away games next summer. I'll definitely have to discuss that with her down the road…maybe when we have the talk about being exclusive. I'll give it some more thought. I want the timing to be _just_ right for both topics. There'll be time to think on that later.

But, here and now, it's showtime. _Finally._

The whoops and hollers echo in the hallway as we make our way collectively back into our locker room. We won the game, seven to four, against Toronto. Ryan made a couple of spectacular plays tonight, one in the fifth inning and one in the eighth inning. I cheered along with the rest of my team at his performance, happy for my best friend and teammate. I glanced over to see both Padmé and Dormé on their feet clapping, yelling, and cheering for Ryan and couldn't help grinning. They were so fucking cute…Padmé especially.

And, I also couldn't help imagining Padmé cheering _me_ on like that, too. Almost makes me wish I'd been pitching in tonight's game just to see that. There's always my next home game where I'm pitching, though. In fact, I think I'll go ahead and check with her about her schedule, and if she's free, go ahead and buy her a ticket in the same section they were in tonight. Maybe Dormé could come, too. Ryan and I could _both_ have our women cheering us on. Yeah, I'd like that.

I'd like that a _lot._

But, as we walk into the locker room and each man makes for his locker, we have the post game speech from Ben to hear, followed by the requisite post game media interviews. I don't usually mind this so much. I mean, it's a symbiotic relationship and is as much a part of the sport as the games are themselves, and I'm used to having reporters – both male _and_ female – in the locker room before and after games. So, it's a good thing I'm quite comfortable in my own skin, because there are definitely some journalists that've seen me _au natural_ on more than one occasion after a game over the years. But tonight, hopefully, I won't have to worry too much about having a bunch of mikes and cameras shoved in my face since I didn't pitch this game. Because I'm rather anxious to get outta my uniform, get showered, get dressed in my casual clothes, and collect Padmé, and get to _King's_ with Ryan and Dormé. I admit I didn't have time to look up this establishment before the game, and I've never been there myself. But, apparently, Padmé has. Good. She can give me directions. I plan to drive me and her there in my car and then take her home afterward before heading back home myself.

Ben walks to the center of the room, claps his hands several times to get our attention, then congratulates us on a game well played. He rattles on for a few minutes, specifically pointing out Ryan's two outstanding plays, along with the great pitching in tonight's game. He reminds us of our next upcoming game and that he expects us to be ready and pumped for our next batting practice before wishing us all a good night and departing the room, heading for the sanctuary of his private office. We cheer and clap good naturedly before we all start to undress. I set my cap on the shelf in my locker, pull my jersey off and throw it on the floor at my feet. I step out of my cleats, putting them in the bottom of my locker. I undo my belt and pull off my pants, then my socks, before pulling off my undergarments and my jock strap. I've just wrapped a towel around my lean hips and secured it, ready for a shower, when the first reporters come walking into the room, making a beeline for Ryan. I can't help grinning. It's awesome to see him get some well-earned praise and attention. As a catcher, he's maybe not as high profile a player as I am or some of the infield or outfield players are, but he's got arguably the toughest job on the team. I grab my backpack and pause to smile and answer a few questions for _ESPN, The Boston Globe,_ and local _CBS_ news affiliate _WBZ Channel 4,_ before making my way into the relative privacy of the players' showers and restroom. Reporters aren't allowed in here. It's just us guys, and while I'll usually crack jokes and bullshit with my teammates in here, tonight I am totally focused on getting my ass ready and outta here.

After all, the sooner I get cleaned up and dressed, the sooner I can be alone with Padmé in my car, and I am seriously looking forward to _that._

I shower and wash my hair in near record time before drying off and wrapping my towel around my hips again and stopping by the sink to shave and then brush my teeth and then brush my hair. I apply deodorant, a spritz of cologne, then go about getting dressed. Tonight, I chose boxers, a pair of dark blue, straight leg _Levi's,_ a white short sleeve _Izod_ shirt, which I leave untucked, and a pair of socks and my white _Nike_ sneakers. I also have a light blue, zip-up, sweatshirt hoodie in my backpack if it gets chilly later. As I'm exiting the shower, a clearly tired, but pumped, Ryan comes striding into the shower room, dressed similarly to me earlier, towel round his hips, duffle bag on his shoulder. He still has his eye black smeared under his eyes, but he's sporting a mile fucking wide grin, rightly so after the game he had.

I grin back, "Great game there, Bro!"

He nods, pleased at his own performance, "Yeah. I saw those two opportunities and went for it. Glad it worked out in our favor."

I punch him lightly in the shoulder, "That you did, Buddy. That you _did_ …Listen, don't be too long. I'm going to go wait with the girls. Meet us at the entrance leading to the parking lot."

"Sure. Be out in a bit," he nods and we fist bump before he turns to head for the showers and I turn to exit the room, making my way back through the locker room and out of the clubhouse and toward the exit to the players' parking lot. The girls aren't anywhere in sight when I arrive. So, I pull my backpack off my shoulder, fish out my phone, and thumb it open. I find Padmé's contact and quickly text her: **Hey! Where U at? I'm ready to go. Waiting the exit to the players' parking lot.**

After a minute, she texts back: **_Potty break. Be there in a few. :p_**

I smile and quickly send back a response: **K. Ry will be out in a few. Hurry, I'm hungry!**

I smirk and wait for the three dots and what will surely be a snarky comeback. I'm not disappointed.

 ** _U hungry? U didn't even play! LOL_**

I can just imagine the grin on her face right now. I bet it matches my own. **So? Still hungry. I'm a guy. Whatcha expect?** Now, let's see what she says to _that!_

 ** _D says U R insatiable! ROFL_**

I burst out laughing, my grin turning positively feral. Oh, Baby…you have _no idea_ just how true that is!

Before I can respond, I hear Ryan calling out my name as he walks toward me. He's dressed similarly to me in blue jeans, a navy blue polo shirt, and sneakers, his duffle bag slung over his right shoulder. "Girls not here yet, huh?" he asks as he reaches me.

I shake my head, "Nope. Potty break. Guess the lines in the ladies' are long."

He nods, "Gotcha. Well, they'll be along in a few minutes, I'm sure." I nod in agreement, as we step aside to allow a few of our teammates and their WAGs to exit the doors to the parking lot, all of us calling out a cheerful goodnight to each other. It's amazing how a win can boost all of our spirits, not that mine wasn't jovial to begin with, of course. I mean, even if we'd lost the game tonight, I don't think that would've impacted my mood all that much, because I was still going out with Padmé either way – and that is enough of a spirit booster for _any_ man, lemme tell ya.

I glance at Ryan curiously, "So, how far is _King's_ from here anyway?" I'm curious, because traffic around _FP_ can be ridiculous after a game, and like I said, I don't know where this place is exactly.

He glances up from his phone to smile, "Not far. Fastest way to get there from here is to take _Boylston_ and _Charlesgate_ to _Storrow_ before turning left onto _Seaport_. Don't worry P's been there before. She knows the way."

I nod again. I know the general route he's talking about. _But,_ "P?" I ask with an amused raise of my eyebrows.

Ryan laughs, "Yeah. Dormé's called Padmé 'P' since they were kids. Padmé does the same to her, calling her 'D' most of the time. I'm used to it." He shakes his head and shrugs.

Ahh, well, I guess I'll have to get used to it, too.

At that precise moment, we hear the sound of both our girls laughing as they come into view, walking toward us. Ryan and I share an amused grin before turning to watch our ladies walk toward us. Something has obviously amused them, the way they're laughing. As they reach us, Ryan leans over and kisses Dormé on the cheek, and I do the same to Padmé. Then, before I can say anything, he asks Dormé, "What's so funny, Babe?"

Beside me Padmé groans and rolls her eyes, making Dormé laugh all the harder, "Oh, it's just…Well, as we exited the restroom, these two obviously inebriated… _elderly_ chaps…stop us and ask us if we'd be so kind as to point them in the direction of the men's restroom, which we did…Only as they walked, well _staggered_ off, the shorter, more _rotund_ one of the pair, turns back to look at us over his shoulder then whispers," she rolls her eyes and uses air quotes,"to his buddy, _'Think she'd come unzip my fly for me, Charlie?'_ So, _Charlie_ burps – loudly – and says back, ' _You mean the tall one, John?'_ So, then _John_ snorts and says, _'Noooo…Not her. The midget. She's a real cutie-patootie."_

By this point in the story, Padmé is beet red and spluttering, a scowl etched on her beautiful face, while the rest of us are laughing our asses off. When I finally catch my breath, I can't help teasing her a little, "So, Babe…Want me to go kick old John's ass for ya?" Ryan and Dormé burst out laughing again, while I grin from ear to ear at the unamused look on Padmé's face. She just huffs, muttering curses under her breath, and crosses her arms across her chest.

Scowling at the three of us as we try to contain our laughter, she mutters, "You know what? I'm going to the car," and she whirls and stomps out the door, making us laugh all the harder. Still, I motion toward the door with my head, and our friends follow me out, our laughter quieting to softer chuckles as we follow after a rather miffed Padmé. Watching her ramrod straight form marching ahead of me determinedly, I feel bad for teasing her so much. She can't help her petite height, and truthfully, I actually find it sexy as all get out that she's so tiny. It brings out the inner caveman in me, makes me feel strong and masculine, like I'm her shield, her protector…her _valiant knight_ , if you will. But, remembering how sensitive she is about both her looks and her body, I feel bad for upsetting her. We certainly didn't mean to make fun of her, of course, but damn, that _was_ a hilarious story.

 _Not that I blame 'ole John' either,_ I can't help thinking to myself with a grin. After all, he's got good taste in women. Of course, it's just a good thing that he _is_ elderly; otherwise, he'd be in for a _serious_ ass whooping from yours truly. For real.

I glance over at Ryan and call out, "Meet you there." He nods, and he and Dormé head over to his gray _Audi Q7,_ firing it up and making for the exit,while I make a beeline for my own gray _Lambo_ , which a still visibly annoyed Padmé is standing beside, waiting for me. Fuck, she is _so_ feisty and _so_ adorably cute when she's pissed off.I hit the remote to unlock my car, and Padmé immediately goes to open the door herself, but I reach out a hand, laying it against the door to forestall her and lean down to look her in the eye. She averts her gaze and bites her bottom lip, but I reach up with my other hand and gently tilt her face back to mine with my fingertips, forcing her to look at me. "Padmé," I whisper softly, "We didn't mean to hurt your feelings back there. I didn't realize your height is such a sensitive issue for you, just like when we met you didn't know my childhood poverty is a sensitive issue for _me._ And, I'm sorry for upsetting you. Ok? Forgive me?"

She sighs and nods, a small smile lighting her eyes and her luscious pink lips. "Apology accepted. And, I'm sorry, too, Anakin. I shouldn't have gotten upset over such a minor thing. It's just…I'm the shortest person in my family, and even all of my girlfriends are taller than me, especially Dormé, and I've just been teased so much all my life by everyone for being short that it just…Well, it makes me feel like there's something inherently _wrong_ with me because I'm not tall, I guess." She glances down at the ground and gives a half shrug.

Watching the top of her head, I silently kick myself in the ass and remind myself of her _Ugly Duckling_ complex and how I promised myself I'd help her work on that by reminding her often just how beautiful she truly is. So, another timely reminder coming right up, "Hey, you've got _nothing_ to be embarrassed about, Padmé. Truth is, your diminutive height is one of the things that attracted me to you from the start."

Her head lifts up, and her eyes lock on mine, and she whispers, "R-really? You…You don't think I'm _too_ short then?"

Shaking my head no, I lean down until we're nose to nose, my eyes conveying my sincerity, and I whisper back, "No. I think you're perfect just the way you are. In fact, you're _just_ the right height."

She gulps, her eyes wide open and staring into mine, "I-I am?"

"Yes, you are. In fact, it makes _me_ feel more masculine, more primal, more protective of you…Actually, it brings out the caveman in me," I tell her, our lips now only a breath apart, and I can't help the soft rumbling growl that escapes from deep within my chest, adding to the fervency of my words, and I know without a doubt, my eyes have darkened to near black with longing.

She inhales sharply, her pupils dilating rapidly at my close proximity – and my words. "It does?" her answering reply is barely audible.

Nodding slowly, I lick my lips, my own reply coming out husky and hoarse with desire, "It does." She actually fucking _whimpers_ at me, and I can't resist temptation anymore, sealing our lips together in a deep kiss. I swipe my tongue along her bottom lip, asking her to open her lips to me, which she does, eagerly. I surge my tongue inside her mouth, immediately seeking her own and twining them together in a slow delicious tango. Tilting my head at different angles, I deepen the kiss even more, sucking on her tongue in a sensual rhythm, driving me nearly mad with desire. I groan deep in my throat, and force myself to pull back from the kiss when the need for air intrudes on our moment. I feel my pulse pounding, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.

 _Holy shit!_ This woman impacts me like nothing and no one else _ever_ has.

It still amazes me that just _one_ kiss with her drives me nearly mad with lust. I ease back from her a bit in an attempt to hide the raging boner I've now got. I promised myself I wasn't going to rush things between us, and that we'd wait to advance our relationship to a more _intimate_ setting, i.e., my bedroom, until _she_ was ready to take that step. This moment was about reassuring her, about helping her to see herself the way _I_ see her and _not_ about my carnal lusts. Willing my dick to stand down, I open the passenger door for her and give her my most brilliant smile. She settles in the seat, and as she grabs the seatbelt, I lean down and, with my voice warm and husky, tell her, "But, if John had been a younger man closer to our age, I seriously would have gone and kicked his ass. Just saying." I give her a wink and smirk when she gasps and her mouth falls open in surprise at my admission. I shut the door and saunter around to the driver's side and climb in, looking over at her as I strap myself in and give her a pointed look that clearly says I'm not kidding. I'm thrilled to see a blush blooming on her lovely face, and I smile again and fire the engine up, put the car in gear, and head for the exit, which security opens for us. With a wave at the gate personnel, I turn the car out into traffic, and ask which way we need to go.

She directs me toward _Storrow Drive,_ telling me next to merge onto the _MA-3 S._ Using the middle lane, we then merge onto _I-93_ before taking Exit 23 toward _Purchase Street_ , finally turning left onto _Seaport Blvd._ Seeing _King's_ immediately, we park near Ryan's SUV. Ryan and Dormé have already headed inside. But, wow. That was pretty damn quick. Only took us about twelve minutes to get here from _FP_. Nice and close. Great. I turn off the car, step out, and head round to open Padmé's door, giving her a hand and helping her out. Shutting her door, I lock the car. It beeps, and then taking her hand, we head inside to find our friends.

Walking in the door, the sounds of balls hitting pins, cheers, laughter, and loud music resonates around us, enveloping us as soon as the front door closes behind us. The _smells_ wafting our way are also incredible. Padmé looks up at me, squeezes my hand, and grins, "I think you'll like this place! It's a lot of fun!" I nod and return her grin with one of my own, and she motions with head forward, and she leads the way, pulling me along with her. We go inside, and right away, staff members are there asking to check our ID's. I'm kinda surprised, but at my puzzled look, one staff member explains that after ten o'clock at night, you have to be twenty-one or older to get in. Ahhh…So, no kids allowed at this time of night, eh? Good to know. Not that I plan to drink more than maybe one or two beers. I don't drink alcohol when I pitch, before or after the game, but I'll indulge in one beer tonight, since I didn't play this game.

And, figures that since we had a game tonight – and a home winner at that – that I'd get recognized…starting right off the bat (haha…yeah, pun intended), with the dude who checks my ID. He sees my name on my driver's license, and he jerks his head up to look at me, and this huge ass grin appears on his face, and as he hands me back my license, he reaches out his hand to shake mine, which I do, smiling all the while. "W-wow, Mr. Skywalker! It's an honor to meet you, Sir! Welcome to King's! It's a pleasure having you with us tonight!"

I thank him and nod, as I put my ID back in my wallet, and then he asks if I'd mind if they took my picture, and I assure them it's fine. I flick my gaze over to Padmé, and she's standing benignly by, a smile of amusement on her face. I guess, in a second-hand kinda way, she's what you could call 'used to' this, considering she's spent a lot of time with Dormé and Ryan in the last two years, and he _does_ get recognized quite a bit himself when he's out and about in this city. I pose for several pictures with staff members, sign a few autographs, and after about ten minutes, I excuse Padmé and myself, reaching down to take her hand in mine, and nodding again at the staff, we make our way further inside, looking all around for Ryan and Dormé.

I admit, this place is quite impressive. It's really huge…a lot bigger than I thought it'd be, and it takes a little bit of searching before we find our friends kicked back at a four-seater table in what Padmé tells me is the _Concourse Lounge,_ which is adjacent to the _King Pin Room,_ where several pool tables are set up. As we walk up, I notice right away that Ryan has several people standing around him, and he's smiling and signing autographs himself and taking selfies with fans and staffers. Sigh. As much as I'd _like_ it to just be the four of us, no way in hell is that happening tonight, I'm afraid. Oh well, being _my_ girlfriend, Padmé will have to get used to this even more than she already is. Nothing like getting thrown into the deep end to see if you're going to sink or swim, right? Thankfully, Ryan assured me that Padmé is a fantastic swimmer.

As Padmé and I walk up to their table, people around them audibly gasp, and I hear the familiar chorus of, _"Oh my! Look who it is! So, nice to meet you! Can I have your autograph? Can I get your picture?"_ Ryan turns to me with a smirk, motioning for me to join in the fray. Nice. I refrain from rolling my eyes, of course, and pause to pull out Padmé's chair for her next to Dormé's left. She beams up at me and mouths _Thank you_ before she motions for me to go round to Ryan's chair and sign autographs and pose for pictures, too. Not wanting to make a scene by bending down to kiss her, I rub her back gently between her shoulder blades for the briefest of moments instead before fulfilling my own PR role for the team. We spend a good twenty minutes, shaking hands, signing autographs, and smiling for pictures all around before staff members shoo the other customers away and bring us a big pitcher of draft beer and four mugs to our table and hand us menus.

I shake my head at Ryan and smirk, "No getting round it, eh? Not after a win tonight, right, Bro?"

He laughs, "Nope. All part of the game, though. But, maybe we can relax now and just have some fun without having too many other folks bother us, y'know. I'd rather get it out of the way now."

I nod in agreement before turning to Padmé. "Sorry about that. Can't be helped in our business, I'm afraid," I apologize to her, a wry look on my face.

She just laughs and waves her hand dismissively, "Oh, it's alright! Don't worry about it. It's to be expected. These people are no different than that little boy at _The Bullpen_ the other night…just taller and drunker, is all." Her brown eyes are sparkling and dancing with amusement, and once again, I am thankful as fuck to have met this utterly amazing woman. We all laugh and then stick our noses in the menus, trying to decide what we want. I gotta admit, I'm starving. That pregame snack is long gone by now, and if I'm going to have any energy to bowl or shoot pool or anything else, I'll need some grub first.

Our waitress arrives, and we quickly give our order for one of the Appetizer Sampler Platters with Buffalo Chicken Wontons, Fried Mac & Cheese bites, Southwestern Spring Rolls, and Nashville Hot Chicken Bites. She departs to let us continue reviewing the menu, while Dormé pours each of us a nice cold glass of beer. We clink glasses, calling out, "Cheers!" to which I add, "And, to my best bro, Ryan, and his standout game tonight!" Me and the girls each give Ryan a beer salute, and he nods and smiles, and lifts his own mug in acknowledgement. At that moment, our waitress returns, and we each place our order, Padmé choosing the Greek Entrée Salad with Grilled Chicken, while I choose the loaded Steakhouse Burger with fries. Ryan and Dormé each give their orders as well, our waitress quickly departing, and then we're back to just the four of us, relaxing over a beer, and I gotta admit…this is _really_ nice. I don't know why I was always resistant to enjoying a leisurely evening out like this before.

 _Because you were always too damn focused on getting laid, that's why._

I wince internally at my thoughts, though I can't deny the truth of them. I _was_ always focused on picking up a hot ass chick and going back to her place or to her hotel room for some _erotic_ filled fun time, and as I said before, I did not date. Period. So, now that I _am_ finally dating, exclusively at that, I intend to enjoy every nuance of this heretofore unexperienced experience. And, as I glance around at my laughing best friend, his fiancee, and my own _almost_ girlfriend, I've never looked forward to enjoying anything more in my life.

Chuckling to myself, I take a swig of my beer, my blue eyes gleaming as I contemplate all the joyous wonders that are undoubtedly in store for me, for her, for _us_ in the not too distant future, and with amazement, I can't help thinking, _This is where the fun begins._


	6. Chapter 6

**Game Plan: Ch. 6**

* * *

I admit I'm a _little_ bit nervous at the moment.

See, my mom texted me this morning while I was at batting practice with the team. I didn't see her message until it was over, when I got out of the shower, walked back to my locker, and was grabbing my clean clothes out of my backpack to get dressed, when I picked up my phone to check for any messages from Padmé. There _was_ one from Padmé, yeah, but I noticed right away that Mom had dinged me. She doesn't usually text. She calls instead. So, I was a bit concerned seeing that.

Thumbing open my phone, all her message said was: _**Call me, Ani.**_

Automatically assuming _something_ was up, if not a flat-out emergency, I rushed to get dressed so I could dash to my car, call her, and then get to the farm asap if something _was_ wrong, y'know. Seeing me throwing on my clothes like a lunatic, Ryan frowned, watching me. "Uh, what's the matter, Bro?"

Not even sparing him a glance, I yanked up my jeans, zipping and buttoning them quickly before sitting down to put on my socks and shoes, "Got a text from Mom. Not sure what it's about, but you know she never texts, Ry. She calls. I'm just afraid something's happened, y'know." I finish tying the laces of my _Nike's,_ stand up, and pull on my red _Under Armour_ t-shirt before shoving my wallet in my back pocket, grabbing my keys, throwing my backpack over my shoulder, and picking up my phone in my free hand. "I'll call you later, Man."

He nods and slaps me on the back, his look concerned, "Yeah, Bro. Hope everything's alright. Let me know what's up. Ok?"

Nodding my head silently, I rush out of the locker room, heading straight for the exit to the player's parking lot at _FP_ and my _Lambo._ I unlock it with the key fob, throw my bag inside on the passenger seat, climb in, and immediately hit speed dial for Mom's cell. Tapping my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, I grit my teeth, waiting for her to pick up. _Come on, Mom! Pick up, dammit!_

Finally, on the _fourth_ fucking ring, she answers, " _Hello, Ani? That you, Sweetie?"_

Relief floods through me just hearing her sweet voice. She sounds fine. I mean, she doesn't sound hurt or panicked. She's not out of breath or sobbing. All good signs. So, hopefully, whatever it is, it's not something _major._ At least not to _me._

Now, to my _mother_ …major's a different ballgame altogether, as it turns out.

"Hey, Mom. I just got your text. Is everything alright? I mean, you almost never text me. Nobody's hurt or anything, are they?" I ask in concern, now gripping the steering wheel rather tensely. I mean, this is my _mom_ here. I gotta be sure, y'know?

Confusion sweeps in as she starts to chuckle, and I can't help frowning a little in bewilderment, " _Oh no, Dear! Nothing like that. We're all ok."_

Letting out a breath of relief, I shake my head, baffled at my mother's rather odd behavior, " _Ok_. That's…good to know, but that doesn't explain why you'd text me instead of call or leave me a voicemail, Mom."

Unfortunately, my parent is no more forthcoming with the _why_ in her next comment, " _Well, I thought it prudent to contact you immediately as soon as I found out the news…only I wasn't where I could call you and talk to you privately at the time. So, I texted instead."_

Nope. That's not fucking cryptic at all, is it?

Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then bluntly get to the point, "Mom, what the _hell_ are you talking about?"

She sighs into my ear and then hits me with a fastball right between the eyes, " _Ani, language. Now, when exactly were you planning on telling me about your new girlfriend? It's terrible that I, your mother, had to find out from_ _ **Twitter**_ _, of all places, that you're dating some girl and you hadn't even bothered to tell_ _ **me**_ _about her first? Son, I am rather annoyed and hurt about that."_

My jaw fucking drops in shock, and I admit I'm left stunned and speechless for a minute, sitting and staring out through the windshield without really seeing anything. Apparently, I'm silent for so long, my mother must think I've hung up on her, " _Anakin Skywalker! Did you hang up on me?"_

Jerking back to the present, I shake my head to clear it, and when I speak, my voice comes out in more of a squawk, "No, Ma'am. I'm still here…Uh, Mom…You said you found out from _**Twitter**_ that I'm dating someone?!" I admit, I'm racking my brain to figure out _how_ in the hell this could've happened. I know _I_ haven't posted anything on my _Twitter_ account about Padmé. Nor _Instagram_ or _Facebook_ either, for that matter. Again, I'm not ashamed of Padmé. Hell, no! Quite the opposite, in fact, but at the same time, we've only really _just_ started dating, and I've not had a chance yet to even talk with her about us being exclusive because my schedule has been so hectic with us in a busy home stretch right now, and I'd hoped to wait to tell Mom and Dad about her until we'd at least established that we were a full fledged 'couple,' before doing the whole parent introduction thing.

Mom clarifies for me, " _Yes,_ Twitter _. Ryan posted pictures of you with this really pretty, dark-haired young woman. You were out at a place called King's with Ryan and his fiancee, Dormé, and this girl. Who is she, Ani?"_

I can't help the groan that slips out, and I tilt my head back against the headrest as my eyes close, and I reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose. Dammit! That's right. Ryan and Dormé _did_ take pictures of us that night at _King's_. But I didn't realize he was going to _post_ them on _Twitter_. Great. Just fucking great.

 _Not_ how I wanted to tell the world – let alone my mother – about Padmé.

Well, the cat's outta the bag now. All I can do is run with it, I guess.

Sighing, I open my eyes…and tell my mother the truth because I _never_ lie to my mom, "Her name is Padmé Naberrie, and she's Dormé's best friend. She and Ryan introduced us when they asked us to be their Maid of Honor and Best Man for their wedding, and yeah, Mom, we've started dating."

My mother inhales sharply at this last tidbit, and her next words sound excitedly hopeful, " _Oh, Ani! That's just wonderful, Sweetheart! I take it you really_ like _this girl, right?"_

I can't help grinning at my mother's optimistic enthusiasm…and the fact that she knows me _so_ well, "Yeah, Mom. I really _do_ like her. A lot. A _whole_ lot, actually. Right from the moment we met, I was attracted to her like no other woman I've ever met before, and we've been out together on several dates since we met, both alone and with Ryan and Dormé…I just hadn't said anything to you yet, because I haven't had a chance to talk with Padmé about us being exclusive."

" _Oh. I see."_

Picturing in my mind the look I _know_ is on her face, I sigh again and explain further, "Mom…Look, you know my reputation with women, and I just…Well, I want to take things slow with Padmé, really court her, _woo_ her. I've never dated any woman before, and I want to give this, give _her_ my very best because..." I pause speaking, pursing my lips. Ok, I've admitted to Ryan how much I _like_ Padmé, true, but I've only admitted to _myself_ that I think I'm actually falling _in love_ with her. Unfortunately, Mom's not going to let me get away with _not_ finishing that sentence.

" _Because…what, Ani?"_

"Because…I think I'm genuinely falling in love with her, Mom."

I swear, I think this admission is going to make my mother start crying. I hear sniffles in my ear, and when she speaks, her voice sounds choked up, " _Oh, Son…I was afraid I'd_ never _hear you say that about_ any _woman, and I…I'm just so happy for you! I can't wait to meet her! Where is she from? Does she live in Boston?"_

Time to play Twenty Questions 2.0, Mama's Version, I guess. Figures.

Oh well, here we go…

Though a bit miffed that Ryan didn't check with me first before he posted those pics of me and Padmé – and unwittingly opened this can of worms in the process, so to speak – disappointing my mother isn't something I've ever wanted to do, and I know she's always looked forward to her only son, her only _child_ , settling down and having a family of his own one day. Guess, that day's one giant leap closer now, for both of us, and I'm sure it's only natural that she'd want to know more about the woman her son has chosen for his life partner. She's going to be Padmé's mother-in-law eventually after all; at least, she is if _I_ have anything to say about it.

Knowing she only wants what's best for me, I oblige her and give her the answers she's looking for. "Yes, she's a Boston native, and yes, she still lives here in town, Mom. She went to _Boston University_ and is a former _NCAA_ champion tennis player. She's just turned twenty-six, and she's a middle school teacher. She and Dormé have been best friends since they were little kids, and Ryan's known her for two years, since he started dating Dormé. In fact, Ryan said that he'd wanted to introduce me to her almost a year ago, but that ongoing conflicts in our schedules somehow prevented it before now. He said he thought the two of us would hit it off really well, and he was right about that. We _have_ it hit off. Amazingly so."

Mom's enthusiasm seems to have spiked at this info. " _Oh, Ani! This is just wonderful, Sweetie! If Ryan likes her and thinks she'd be perfect for you, then I know I'll like her, too. I've always liked that boy and think he's got good instincts."_ Chuckling at her response, I'm actually surprised she's not doing cartwheels at this point.

But then Mom hits me with the obvious question next _, "Ani, this girl I_ have _to meet. When can I meet her?…Oh, such a lovely and unique sounding name, too, Padme…It'll go well with Skywalker, don't you think?"_

Rolling my eyes in good natured exasperation, I huff and shake my head, " _Moooom!_ I know you're excited about this, but chill out, ok? We've only _just_ started dating really, and while I recognize I'm developing deep feelings of affection for Padmé, we're _not_ at the point of saying 'I Do' just yet. So, take a deep breath and relax. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Though, secretly to myself, I admit Mom's right. Padmé Skywalker _does_ sound perfect to me, and yeah, only in my own head will I acknowledge that I'm already thinking ahead about rings and vows and kids, the whole nine yards. But love and adore my mother though I do, I'm not going to share those tentative plans with anyone else – no, not even my mother, or Ryan for that matter – this soon. I'm gonna keep a lid on those thoughts for now.

" _Ok, ok…I'll back off. But, when can we meet her, Ani?"_

Fuck, my mother's persistent. I must've inherited that trait from her. I consider her question. _What about at the game tonight?_ I wonder. It's earlier than what I'd first planned on them meeting, true, but having my mother's approval of Padmé would actually further cement my own feelings about her, I'm sure. And, I _do_ want Mom's approval. I want her and Padmé to get along really well. They're the two most important women in my life, after all. I mean, I don't doubt Mom and Dad will love her, too, of course, but I had wanted the timing to be just right before making the introductions. I don't want Padmé to feel like I'm jumping the gun here or moving too fast with our relationship by forcing her to meet my folks if she doesn't feel comfortable doing so at this point. After all, she's not mentioned anything to me yet about meeting _her_ parents either.

Still, it wouldn't be that unusual for them to meet up at one of my games. My folks do enjoy coming to watch me pitch several games a season when we're in a home stretch, and they always stay with me at my house when they do, and we make a night of it by going out for a nice dinner afterward. Ryan and Dormé have even gone with us several times. The more I think about it, introducing Padmé to my parents at a game sounds like the most…comfortable and easiest way to do so, involving the least amount of pressure on everyone while at it. And, Ryan and Dormé could tag along again with us, just to diffuse any nerves that much further. Sounds like a great idea to me. So, I voice it to her.

"Mom, how about this…Why don't you and Dad come to the game tonight against Miami? I'm pitching, and Padmé's already got a ticket. Dormé's coming with her, and I could get tickets for you and Dad to sit with them, I'm sure. They're going to be in the section right next to our dugout. Then, after the game, all of us could go out for a nice dinner together. We could hit _Fire + Ice,_ that interactive grill I've taken you guys to before. It's just down the road from _FP_ , and you and Dad enjoyed that place a lot, remember?"

They really did enjoy it, and it's a fun place with great food. Very unique atmosphere. It's a happening place but not _too_ hip for my parents to visit, like a lot of other clubs or bistros or restaurants in the area might be. I've not taken Padmé there before, but Ryan and Dormé and I have all been, and I think Padmé would enjoy it, if she hasn't been before. She and I have very similar tastes, after all.

Mom obviously likes this idea, because she immediately jumps at the opportunity, " _Oh, that sounds perfect, Ani! I'll tell Cliegg, and we'll swing by your house first and drop off our stuff then head to the game. What time is it?"_

Chuckling, I shake my head at my mother, "It's at 7:10 tonight, Mom. Yeah, just swing by the house and drop your stuff off in your and Dad's room. I'll get your tickets now. I'll already be back at the stadium to get ready for the game by the time you and Dad get to the house. You can grab your tickets and your parking pass and head over here. I'll leave them on the kitchen counter for you. Just park where you normally do at _Swan Lot._ I'll go ahead and reserve a spot for you. Then, we'll head out for dinner after the game. Don't forget your passes to get into the locker room afterward, Ok?"

Mom agrees, " _Ok, Sweetie. We'll see you tonight then. I can't hardly wait! I am_ really _looking forward to meeting her, Ani."_

Of that, I have no doubts.

"Ok, Mom. See you tonight. Love you."

" _Love you, too, Son."_ Mom blows me a kiss and then hangs up.

I know she's thrilled about this unexpected turn of events. Instead of sugarplums, I'm sure she's already got visions of cooing babies dancing in her head. Smirking, I climb back out of my car, relock it, and head back into the players' entrance to secure tickets for my folks for tonight. While I walk, I thumb open my phone and hop on _SpotHero_ and quickly reserve my folks a parking spot for tonight's game. That done, I walk back inside and happen upon Ryan as he's leaving, likely to go grab some lunch.

He sees me walking back in, and he lifts his chin at me in greeting, "Yo, what'd you find out, Man? Everything ok?"

Well, now that you mention it, Bro…

I stop and narrow my eyes at him, my lips twisting a bit while I tap my phone against the palm of my opposite hand. He knows me well, of course, and his eyebrows shoot up as he stops in front of me, "What is it? Something wrong?"

I love the guy like he was my brother, don't get me wrong, _but_ I really wish he'd have checked with me first before posting those damn pictures. Sighing, I give him a pointed look, "Well, turns out Mom was a little teed off that she found out from _Twitter_ that I was dating Padmé…instead of from me personally."

Ryan's mouth falls open and his eyes grow big as saucers, "How'd that happen, Bro?"

Smirking, I arch my eyebrows at him, "Oh, seems she saw the pictures _you_ posted from _King's_ the other night. That's how."

Ryan groans and curses, rubbing his right hand across his face, "Fuck! Man, I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't even _think_ about your mother when I posted those. _Shit!_ Was she super pissed?" He bites his lip nervously.

He looks so contrite, and I know he loves my mother almost as much as I do and would never knowingly do anything to hurt her, so I can't stay mad at him. So, I wave it off, "Eh, she was annoyed, yeah, but when I told her about Padmé and how us dating all came about, she was so fucking excited about it, she totally let it go. In fact, she said that if _you_ set us up, then she was sure Padmé was the one for me, because she totally trusts your instincts."

Ryan grins, looking instantly relieved. Not that I blame him. He's been on the receiving end along with me of more than one of my mother's ' _I'm highly disappointed about this'_ speeches. He hates to upset her as much as I do. "Awesome! Let me guess…She asked when she could meet her, right?"

Nodding, I cross my arms over my chest, "Bingo. So, I thought about it and suggested she and Dad come to the game tonight to meet Padmé, and then maybe all of us, you and Dormé included, could hit _Fire + Ice_ after the game for dinner. Whatcha think? Sound good?"

He nods in agreement, "Hell, yeah. Sounds perfect actually. It'll be a nice way to introduce them. Y'know, take the pressure off by having them meet up casually like this at the game. Want me to make a reservation for dinner?" He's already pulling his phone out to do so, and since I've got to go get tickets for my folks, I nod in agreement.

"Yeah. Do that. I gotta go get their tickets. I'll see you tonight, Ry," I lightly slap him on the shoulder and walk past him before remembering something else and turn back around while I keep walking backwards, "Oh, go ahead and reserve three parking spots at the garage on _St. James_ while you're at it. Mom and Dad'll have their car, and I'll take Padmé in my car so I can drop her at home afterward." Turning back around, I head off down the hallway.

"Yeah, will do! See you tonight!" Ryan calls out to me, and I just lift my left arm in the air in acknowledgement and keep on walking. I gotta hurry up and get the tickets and get my ass back home to get ready for tonight.

My parents have a remote control for both the gate across my driveway and another one to open my garage. They also have keys for all the outside doors to my house, along with the passcode for the security system. They have their own guest suite over the garage complete with an en suite bathroom, a private bedroom with a nice queen size bed and dresser in it, and a small separate living room with a loveseat, a glider rocking chair for my mother, a recliner for my stepfather, coffee table, a fifty-five inch flat screen TV with cable mounted on the wall, and a small kitchenette area with a fridge, sink, and microwave just for their use. I gave Mom carte blanche to decorate it however she and Dad wanted it, and whenever they come to visit me, that's where they stay. I have an intercom system in my house that is in all the main rooms, including their suite. So, if they need me while they're there, they can comm me.

Anyway, the point is, my folks know the drill here. So, they'll let themselves in, get settled and then head out for the game. All I'll have to do is leave their tickets and prepaid parking pass on the kitchen counter and they'll get it before they head to _FP._ Now, I just need to let Padmé know what's happening. I mean, I'm sure she'll get along super well with my folks, yeah, but at the same time, I don't want to spring it on her at the game, either. Opening my phone again, I find her contact info and hit dial. Normally, I'd text her, but about this, I'd rather call her.

On the second ring, she answers, and I can't help the flutter of excitement in my gut or the smile breaking out on my face at the sound of her lovely voice reaching my ears, " _Hi, Anakin! I wasn't expecting you to call so early. What's up?"_

"Hi, Gorgeous," I reply, hearing her quickly inhale and then giggle softly at my compliment, and I'm pretty damn sure she's blushing like a rose right now. Grinning, I chuckle and continue, "We just wrapped up batting practice a little bit ago, but uh, something's come up, and I needed to run it by you real quick."

" _Oh? Nothing wrong, I hope."_ I can hear the instant concern in her voice, and I rush to reassure her.

"No, no…nothing like that. It's just…" I pause walking and turn and lean my back against the wall, glance around to make sure no one's around to overhear me, and then decide to just spill the beans about the situation, because undoubtedly, Mom will mention to her tonight about seeing the pictures of us together online, and I'd rather be upfront and totally honest with Padmé than lie to her and keep things from her. So, setting aside my nerves, I give it to her straight, "Well, see…Ryan posted pictures of you and me together from _King'_ s the other night on his _Twitter_ without telling me, and my mother saw them this morning, got upset that I hadn't told her about you yet, and left me a message while I was at practice just now to find out what was going on, and so, I told her that we'd started dating, and long story short, Mom's asked to meet you. Tonight, in fact."

She is silent for a long moment, and just when I feel my nerves start to spike that this is too soon and I'm pushing things too fast, she surprises me by giggling, " _Great! I'd love to meet your mother, Anakin. Is she coming to the game then?"_

I feel my body sag against the wall in relief, and I can't help smiling because, from the sounds of it at least, Padmé seems ok with the speed this is all happening. "Yeah…she and my stepdad, Cliegg, are both coming to the game tonight. And, I was hoping you'd like to join us for dinner afterward, too. I already asked Ryan, and he and Dormé are coming with us. Of course, they know my parents already, but I just thought that meeting them at a game would be easier for everyone."

" _Oh, sure. It sounds wonderful. I'd love to join you! Where are we going for dinner?"_ she asks, and unless I'm mistaken, she sounds very _pleased_ about all this. God, I hope so, because even though I'm trying to make this as comfortable a situation as I can, I also recognize that first impressions are important, and I _want_ my mother to really be impressed with Padmé, to genuinely _like_ her. Of course, on the flip side of that coin, it's equally important to me that Padmé likes my mother and warms to her quickly. And, I think they'll get along well. I really do.

Suddenly pumped about tonight and the prospect of my _almost_ girlfriend meeting my parents while watching me kick some serious ass pitching tonight, I can't keep the feral grin from my face, "Awesome! We're going to _Fire + Ice_ just down the road from _FP._ Ever been there?"

She perks up even more, " _Oh, I love that place! That sounds perfect, Anakin!_ _I can't wait!"_

Nearly giddy with anticipation, I fist pump the air in jubilation, "Great! I can't wait, either. So, see if you can catch a ride with Ryan and Dormé to the game, and then I'll take you home after dinner. My folks have their own car, and they'll be staying at my house while they're in town, and they know the way. Sound good?"

She's definitely onboard with the plan, " _Yep! Sounds perfect. I'll call D right now. See you all tonight!"_

"See you tonight, Padmé." We hang up, and I take a deep breath in to quiet the sudden nerves jumping round in my belly. The woman of my fucking dreams is meeting my parents. Tonight. _Shit._ I almost can't believe this is happening! Something that I honestly never thought would happen in my life is now happening. And, I can't deny – nor would I want to – that I'm over the fucking moon about this development. Yeah, sometimes life throws you a curve ball, but if you recognize it and know how to swing when it comes at you, you can still hit a base run, if not a homer.

And, I intend to hit a homer with this one.

Hey, I may be a star pitcher, but that doesn't mean I can't still _hit_ the damn ball. I intend to score BIG off this play.

Starting with hurrying up and getting my parents' tickets and printing up their parking pass and then getting my ass in gear. I've got to get home, dump out my bag, repack it with clean clothes, fix some lunch, and then I need to watch some more footage of the _Marlins_ ' batters I'll be facing tonight before heading back to the stadium.

I feel pretty good about my form right now. I've been practicing in the bullpen this week with my slurve and knuckle ball pitches, working with our pitching coaches to improve on my technique. I'm known for my fastballs, the four-seam especially, but all good pitchers, especially those in the top echelon of the _MLB_ , are going to have multiple different types of pitches down to a tee in their repertoire. I'm also good at two-seams, both sinkers and runners, and cut fastballs, but I've struggled at times with my slurve and knuckle delivery. A slurve is a combination of a slider and a curveball and is actually more commonly thrown than a true curveball is. Personally, I don't tend to throw knuckle balls that often because I'm generally a fastball kinda pitcher, and knuckles are usually thrown slower, and they come into the batting zone with almost no rotation on them, thereby making the ball appear to flutter in the air, making them harder to hit. So, my coaches said I needed to practice. And, practice makes perfect, right?

At least it does in baseball.

I've also been going over video footage with our coaches of the last few games where I pitched, really critiquing my form, my stance, the angle and depth of my throws, and working on correcting some issues that they've noticed, and we've definitely seen improvement in my technique and my delivery, which is always what you're aiming for. As I've said before, nobody's perfect, and yeah, everyone can have an off game. I certainly have. So, you can't ever let up. Even if you're on the Disabled List (DL) with an injury, you can still go over video footage with your coaches and make note of what and where you need to improve. You _always_ need to be humble and willing enough to learn.

Because there's always someone out there who's better at it than you are.

At any rate, I've still got a busy rest of the day ahead of me before I have to pitch tonight, but the end result of the evening, whether we win or lose against Miami, is still going to be a Win-Win for me _personally_ when my parents meet my woman for the first time at the game. And, talk about a happy somebody right now, yeah, that'd be me. Doing what I love, being watched by the people I care about the most while doing it, and then enjoying some precious downtime with them over a nice dinner afterward? Can't beat it.

But, yeah, right now, I gotta hustle. I've got some tickets to buy.

And a home game to get ready to win.

* * *

 _Whoosh_

" _Strike Three!"_ yells the Ump, and the corresponding roar in _FP_ is almost deafening. Ryan smirks and stands up then throws me the ball, which lands in my glove with a soft _smack,_ and I tilt my head to the right, cracking the tension in my neck. I reach up with my right hand and adjust my jersey and exhale sharply while I wait for the next batter to head to the plate.

We're in the top of the sixth inning, up seven to two over _Miami,_ and I need just one more out to give us a chance to further cement our lead. Resisting the urge to turn and glance over to where Padmé, Dormé, and my parents are sitting next to our dugout, I refocus on the immediate task…sinking the next batter.

And, my eyes are on him like a hawk as he approaches.

Erik Vanderveld strides to home plate, practically screaming confidence with every step. He's having a solid season, batting about .315 so far. He's a leftie, and for that purpose, as a right-handed pitcher, I know automatically I have to adjust my pitching strategy. Left-handed batters can be tough to pitch against for several reasons, one being their footing. Because of the side they bat on, they're automatically closer to first base, making infield single runs easier for them. Another reason is that righties' breaking pitches will often curve _toward_ a left-handed batter, making those balls easier to hit. Not good, and not something I'm willing to chance. So, my curve and slurve are out.

I could throw a screwball, which would break _away_ from Erik's batting zone, but we've still got three more innings to go, and I don't want to put undue strain on my arm, in case Ben allows me to finish the game. If we were in the eighth or ninth inning, I'd consider it, but here in the middle of the game, I won't risk my shoulder like that. What I _can_ do, which is even better for me, is put some tail action on one of my fastballs. Erik's had trouble more than once against my fastball, and if I put in some tailing on my two-seamer, it'll bend slightly away from his batting zone, making it harder for him to hit. Ryan motions with his fingers some suggestions for this one, and I give several almost imperceptible shakes of my head no, until he motions for my two-seamer, and I slowly nod my head once, letting him know what I'm going to throw. He nods once in return, gets into position, and as Erik sets himself to swing at my incoming throw, I stand up tall and straight, inhale and exhale sharply, give Erik my sharp, eagle eye, wind up…and release. Like a damn heat seeking missile, the ball leaves my outstretched hand and hurtles forward with the momentum from my arm and shoulder, and as I complete my throwing motion, I watch as Erik eyes the ball coming toward home plate…only to swing and hit nothing but air as my ball does a surprise breaking move outward _just_ past his reach.

" _Strike One!"_ yells the Ump, motioning outward with his hand, his index finger extended.

Fuck yeah!

Two more strikes to go, and we move to the seventh inning. Ryan smoothly stands up and tosses me the ball again. Erik steps out of the batter's box for a moment, taps the bat against his feet, takes a couple of practice swings, before stepping back to the plate and repositions his feet, grinding his lead foot and settling into his batter's stance, and focuses his gaze back on me. Once more, Ryan repeats his hand signals for the perfect pitch…only this time, I decide to go with a change-up because I know Erik won't be expecting it. He's likely anticipating one of my renowned four-seamers. So, this should knock him off keel, mentally and physically. A change-up is a pitch that's thrown like a fastball but with much less speed. With a change-up, my pitching motion is essentially the same but my grip on the ball is different, thereby reducing the speed of the pitch without really changing my arm speed, which helps disguise what type of pitch is being thrown. I normally throw two types of change-ups, my straight change and my circle change. Both are effective, but this time, I'm going with my circle change, which basically means I hold the ball with three fingers while my thumb and index finger are held in a circle. The ball is thrown with a sideways break, a lot like a screwball, only it doesn't strain my shoulder as much. I don't throw this one very often in a game, but that doesn't mean I don't practice it frequently. Or know how to deliver it.

And, as I said, Erik _won't_ be expecting it.

Ryan knows every single pitch I throw, and he and I have practiced them all a bazillion times each over the years. He also knows _me_ well, of course, and when he signals through all my usual pitches without my confirmation, he then nods his head, signals for a change-up and then one finger, representing my straight change. I shake my head. He nods again in comprehension, understanding my silent directive for my circle change throw. He gets into position. I stare down Erik, who braces his feet once more as I wind up and release the ball, watching as it heads for the plate. Since the ball looks like a fastball but moves at a much slower pace, the batter, anticipating a fastball, tends to swing early, missing the ball entirely – which is exactly what happens this time.

" _Strike Two!"_ The Ump motions outward again with two fingers up.

Shit, yeah!

Once more, the uproar in the stadium is tremendous as Ryan throws the ball back to me with a smirk. I got this. And, he _knows_ it. Catching the ball easily in my outstretched glove, I step back up onto the top of the mound and turn to face second base for a moment, contemplating my next pitch and decide on my sinker. This is essentially a two-seam fastball but, by virtue of its design, it appears as a strike before it drops, or sinks, out of the batting zone. The risk with a sinker, because it's thrown either low and in or low and out, is often ground-outs, if the batter does manage to catch it with the bat. But it's a risk I'm prepared for, should Erik manage to get a piece of it. Nodding to myself, my decision made, I grasp the ball firmly with my right hand, holding it inside my glove, and turn back to face home plate. Ryan squats again, motioning rapidly through my pitching options, until I nod when he signals for the sinker. He nods as well and gets in position. Erik pulls back with the bat, his feet braced, his eyes focused on me. I nod again, stand tall, wind up, and throw the ball. It comes in just like a fastball but then sinks just as it reaches the batter. Erik swings, and _Crack!…_ Just as I figured he might do _,_ he manages to get a piece of the ball, but – also as I anticipated – he hits a comebacker, sending the ball right back toward the pitcher's mound. As Erik takes off for First Base, I see the ball heading right for me, and in one fluid move, I reach out and grab the ball in my glove as it bounces, pivot, and throw the ball at Teddy Schultz, our First Baseman, who reads the play expertly and grabs the ball in his outstretched glove, his foot firmly on the bag, and instantly, the first base umpire signals the 'Out,' with his clenched right fist, waving down once like a hammer strike, and the stadium crowd goes wild, as our team all moves to depart the field for our dugout.

As I approach the dugout, my teammates all pat me on the back for a job well done, and I glance over quickly to see Padmé, Dormé, and my parents all on their feet, cheering and clapping their hands enthusiastically, and I manage to catch Padmé's eye for the briefest of moments, and I feel elation sweep through me as she winks at me and purses her lips in a quick kissing motion sent my way. Fighting the urge to fist pump the air, more at my woman's private motions of affection for me than actually my besting the _Miami_ batters that inning, I step down into the dugout and plop down on the bench to watch the rest of the game, because I'm pretty sure Ben is going to pull me for the last three innings to give my arm a rest. But no matter. It's fine by me actually, because already, my mind is turning toward our post-game plans, instead of the rest of the game itself. And, for the first time in a long time, I can't fucking _wait_ for the game to end.

* * *

"Amazing job, Bro!" Ryan reaches out with his hand and we fist bump as we hoist our backpacks on our shoulders and head out of the locker room and toward the hallway leading to the exit to the Players' parking lot where we're going to meet up with the girls, since my parents will be taking their own vehicle to the restaurant and will meet us there. We ended up winning the game eight to five, and just as I had figured, Ben pulled me after that last pitch against Erik and sent in our relief pitcher, Joey Lamenchi, to take over in the seventh. Granted, he gave up three more runs, but we still came out on top with the win. Because he didn't lose the lead in the game, even though he gave up those three runs, I was the starting pitcher this game, and I pitched a full six innings, so I'm still credited with the win, despite being pulled at the start of the seventh. Which is good for _my_ stats and for the team's stats. That's all that matters.

Well, that and making another amazing impression on my woman with my athletic prowess, of course.

Smirking at my best friend, I nod my head as we continue walking along, "Thanks, Man. I could've thrown a four-seamer that last pitch, but truthfully, I figured he'd be expecting that from me. Besides, I admit my arm was getting kinda tired, and I just wanted a quick last out, y'know?"

Ryan nods and then shoots me a sly look sideways, "Yeah. Not to mention you just wanted this one over so you could get to the _good_ stuff tonight. That being dinner with Padmé and your folks, yeah?"

Damn, he knows me so fucking well, I swear.

No sense in denying the truth here. After all, he's right. So, I simply grin sheepishly and shrug my shoulders, "Yeah. I admit it. Ever since I talked to Mom this morning, then Padmé, and we worked all the details out for tonight…I've been like hyper-focused on them meeting each other. It's just…" I continue walking but pause speaking, frowning and chewing my bottom lip for a sec as I contemplate my words. "This is _all_ new to me, Ry. You know that. The only girls I've _ever_ introduced to my mother were my Prom dates in high school, girls who didn't mean jack shit to me. So, it's like a really _huge_ deal for me to introduce Padmé to my parents, y'know? And, to do so _this_ quickly…It's just super important to me that Mom likes Padmé and that Padmé likes my mom. I really want – hell, I really _need_ – them to get along well."

I adjust the backpack strap on my shoulder and keep walking, though I don't look over at Ryan and keep my focus on the floor in front of me as I walk. I don't really need to explain any further about my feelings here. He knows why this is such a big deal to me. Better than anyone else, really…except maybe my mother. Still, I don't want to vocalize my own deepest ruminations about just _how_ serious my feelings are becoming for Padmé. At least, not yet anyway. Just the fact that I'm actually _dating_ her – with no sex involved yet - _and_ that I've sought his help on _wooing_ her, on how to have an _exclusive_ relationship with her…Not to mention the fact that I've literally gone off sex cold turkey until she and I do take that all-important step toward physical intimacy with each other…speaks fucking volumes here.

And, we _both_ know it.

Besides, before I bring up my suspected development of the biggest of the three L-words there is, I want Padmé to have the chance to spend time with my parents, my mom especially, and get to know them…just like I hope she'll want _me_ to have the same opportunity to meet and get to know her parents as well. So, hell yeah, tonight is important. Like majorly. I mean, as I said, I'm already considering, pondering, maybe even planning on the whole nine yards with Padmé, so to speak. Y'know, the rings, the vows, the kids…the whole _intertwining of our lives into one_ kinda thing.

And commitment like that bespeaks of one thing to me: _Family._

Specifically, OUR family. Mine and hers. Together. As one.

And tonight, is our next big step in that direction.

So, I think I can be forgiven if my nerves are strung a bit tight right now.

Ryan doesn't comment as we continue the rest of our walk in silence. He doesn't need to. He's as aware of the night's implications as I am. If this goes as well as I anticipate it to, then Padmé and I will be one _giant_ leap closer to formalizing and solidifying the nature of our relationship. And, just so I'm clear on what I want here, let me repeat: Exclusivity. Permanently. _Legally._

 _That's_ my game plan.

We finally reach the exit and find Padmé and Dormé already there waiting for us. As we approach them, I feel my belly flip-flop again as Padmé turns a beaming smile my way, and I can't help the huge-ass grin that breaks out on my own face in return. Dammit, what she does to me! Literally, just her smile alone turns my knees to fucking jelly! Weak knees and all, just being in her presence is still the most incredible feeling imaginable. Nothing else like it, and talk about intoxicating? Oh, hell yeah, that's her with a capital 'I.' No two ways about it.

As we walk toward them, I also take notice of Padmé's outfit for the evening, and shit, she looks divine! She's dressed casually…but nice casual. Instead of my baseball jersey (which I do miss seeing her in), she's wearing dark navy skinny jeans, a pair of light pink leather flats, a soft baby pink and white striped, summer knit, short sleeved sweater with a thicker white, soft-looking, long-sleeved sweater over it. Her long chestnuts curls are streaming down her back, but she has a baby pink headband on, pulling it back from her face, leaving just her bangs across her forehead. She's got on some tiny pearl stud earrings, and a silver chain and pearl bracelet on. She's also got a darker pink leather purse slung over her shoulder with a long strap so it hands by her hip.

Fuck, she's gorgeous with a capital 'G.' I instantly feel my dick perking up as I sweep her from head to toe with my eyes, and I have to swallow hard and will my baser testosterone urges away. That's right. Down, boy! Don't you _dare_ embarrass me here and now!

"Great game today, Guys!" Padmé calls out to us as we come to a stop beside them. Grinning, I wrap my left arm around her waist and lean down to brush a gentle kiss across her cheek, pleased and thrilled when a rosy blush sweeps over her beautiful face.

Dormé echoes her sentiment, "Yeah. You both played really well. Nice ground out there on Vanderveld in the bottom of the sixth, Anakin." Leaning over toward her fiancé, she smiles lovingly when Ryan bestows an equally loving kiss on her temple and then reaches down to twine their fingers together.

Doing the same with Padmé myself, the four of us turn and exit the building to make our way over toward our respective cars, two couples walking hand-in-hand. Grinning, I reply, "Thanks, Ladies. I think I speak for Ryan too when I say we had a lot of fun out there today…and it was great to come up with the win."

Ryan nods in agreement, and I feel another thrill when Padmé gently squeezes my hand in a silent show of pride at a job well done tonight, and seriously, her support of my career makes me want to bang on my chest like _Tarzan_ and let out a jungle yell that'd put that Ape Man to _shame._

We reach our vehicles, and as Ryan unlocks his and assists Dormé into her seat, I do the same on my _Lambo,_ unlocking and opening the door and offering Padmé my hand to help her climb into the passenger seat. Once she's settled, I shut the door for her, and walk around the car to get into the driver's seat. I call out a quick, "See you guys there, Bro!" which Ryan responds to with a quick wave and nod of his head, and then I climb into my own seat and glance over at Padmé with a grin, and start up the car. Putting on my seatbelt, I wait for Ryan to pull out first, and then put my car in gear, and we follow behind our friends, exiting the parking lot and heading for the restaurant. My parents are probably already there, I'm guessing. Especially since Ryan and I both had post-game interviews to do with several of the media outlets before we could take our showers and get cleaned up for dinner.

But, that's okay. My folks have done this before…the whole having to wait on my post-game PR duties thing. So, they're used to it. They're probably just waiting at the restaurant for us, just like they normally do. Glancing over at Padmé as I maneuver the car through the crowded post-game streets around _FP,_ I smile softly and ask, "So, did Dormé introduce you to my parents before the game?"

Padmé turns to look at me and smiles, nodding, "Yeah. She did. Your mother is lovely, and your stepfather seems really nice. They're very proud of you. As they should be."

I feel a slight pang in my chest at her words. I admit I wish _I_ could've been the one to actually introduce them, but circumstances prevented it, since I was down in our locker room getting ready for the game. But, I'm ecstatic to hear her say that. From her words, it sounds like they got off to a great start. Which is a fucking relief, I gotta admit. Oh, sure…I really didn't have any doubts that they would, of course, but still, hearing her speak like she just did about my parents takes a weight off my shoulders, to be sure. This is all going to work out. I'm certain of it.

"Great! I'm so glad to hear that, Babe. I-I…," I pause and wet my lips before starting again, "It's _really_ important to me that you like them and that they like you." I reach across with my right hand and wrap my fingers around her left hand and give it a gentle squeeze. She turns her hand over and twines our fingers together and she gives my hand a gentle squeeze back. Smiling softly, I glance at her quickly before turning my attention back to the road. I noticed the soft, yet questioning look in her eyes, and I sigh and try to explain. "Look, Padmé, I know you're aware of what kind of reputation I have. With women that is. And, well, the only girls I've _ever_ introduced to my parents were my Prom dates in my junior and senior years of high school. That's _it._ Even then, it was just for some quick pictures. I didn't _date_ girls in high school either. But the thing is…"

I pause speaking again and take a deep breath in, exhale slowly, and bite my bottom lip for a moment. This is the moment of truth for me. For us. I can feel it. It's time to bring up my desire, my wish, for the two of us to date…exclusively.

"What is it, Anakin?"

Her question, though softly spoken, is filled with both curiosity and concern.

Turning, I glance at her, and smile reassuringly before I look back out the windshield and continue my comment. "But _,_ with _you,_ it's all different. I _want_ you to meet my family. I _want_ you to get to know my other friends, and I want you to like them and get along with them. Just like _I_ want to meet your family and your other friends and get to know them, too. What I'm saying, Padmé, is that…I-I want us to date each other. Exclusively, I mean."

An audible gasp reaches my ear and causes me to whip my head around to look at her, and I see an incredulous look on her lovely face. Her eyes are wide, her lips hanging open in surprise, and a beautiful blush has covered her cheeks. But, in her eyes…in her eyes I see genuine affection coupled with…hope. " _Oh, Anakin,"_ she gushes softly, and I am stunned when tears suddenly flood her eyes, making them sparkle in the dim light from the dashboard.

Taken aback by her response, all I can do is stare at her for a moment. She snaps her mouth shut, and I can't help but notice her lips are trembling, and then a single tear slides down her right cheek, and before I realize what I've done, I reach over with my right hand and brush the back of my index finger gently across her cheek, catching the lone droplet of water with my knuckle. Then I brush the backs of all my fingers against her cheekbone in a barely there caress. Damn, her skin is so incredibly soft, and I feel a shudder sweep through my body at the innocent contact.

Smiling softly at her in encouragement, I need to be sure I'm not misunderstanding her vibe here, "Is that a 'yes,' then, Padmé?" My belly clenches as I await her answer. All I can think is _Please say yes! Please say yes! Please. Say. Yes!_

As if she heard the silent mantra clanging away inside my head, she returns my smile somewhat shyly, a darker blush painting her cheeks, her look one of tender affection and softly utters the words I am longing to hear, "Yes, Anakin. I would _love_ to date you exclusively."

Pure unadulterated joy bursts open inside me at her affirmation, and I couldn't be _any_ fucking happier if I'd just won the World Series. Too choked up to respond verbally, I reach over, grasp her hand tenderly in my own, bring it up to my lips and place the gentlest of kisses across the backs of her fingers.

Clearing my throat, I can't help the mile-fucking-wide grin that suddenly splits my face as I shoot her a wink and press down on the gas. I'm more eager than ever to get to the restaurant…and introduce my new girlfriend to those most near and dear to me. _Finally._ I can't fucking wait, and they can't wait either, I'm sure!

Talk about a game changer!

And, I am one gigantic step closer to fulfilling my game plan with her acceptance and approval. Hell yeah, people!

Let's do this thing!


End file.
